


Compos Mentis

by amaradangeli



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 113,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Colonel O'Neill is stranded on a seemingly friendly planet, it's up to his team to rescue him. Who they find, though, isn't the man they left behind.<br/><img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1 - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the fabulous Fems for her beta and to Samantha-Carter-is-my-muse for the beautiful art work.

Colonel Jack O'Neill sat on the low bench outside the temple his scientists, Daniel Jackson and Major Samantha Carter, were exploring. He looked around him. The city was mustard colored as far as the eye could see. Tan buildings, tan roadways, at this time of day as the sun was going down, a golden sky. The only spots of color were in the distance and were, presumably, clothing hung out on lines to dry. Across from him, Teal'c stood, staff weapon in hand, at near parade rest. His eyes were only half open, but Jack knew the big man could spring into action faster than Jack could even get the request out of his mouth if it came to it.

"How're you guys doing in there?" Jack called out, craning his neck a little so he could see in through the glassless window. It was darker inside the building than it was out of it so it was difficult to make out the shapes of his teammates.

There was a long moment of hesitation and Jack realized that he still hadn't been entirely forgiven for his actions after he'd returned from Edora. He'd only done what he had to do, but the undercover mission had fractured the easy camaraderie that the team had previously shared.

Eventually, Daniel's voice filtered out of the temple. "We're going to be a while longer." No whining, no snark, just a flat out answer. Yes, things were definitely still out of sorts.

"Why?" Jack was hoping the question would prompt Carter to answer him, but no dice. It seemed she was the most upset of them all, and he had a feeling it had to do with that little barb he'd thrown at her about not being himself since he met her. He'd meant it, sort of, but not in the way she obviously thought.

Daniel's voice again, "Because I think I see the symbol of Sokar in here."

That perked Jack up. They'd had a run in with the sonuvabitch many months previous in Netu when they'd gone to rescue Carter's dad after a Tok'ra mission gone bad. "You _think_ you see it?"

"It's definitely his symbol. I just don't know why it's here."

Jack harumphed. He didn't care why it was there, just that it was. The last thing they needed was another run in with someone who did Sokar's dirty work. "How about you, Carter?"

A long beat and then, "What about me, sir?"

"You finding what you're looking for?"

"I'm helping Daniel," she said as if reminding him of something. And then he remembered that she hadn't gone into the temple with her own agenda. He guessed he could have remembered that if he'd really tried. And after hearing the tone of her voice he really wished he'd tried harder. He was used to having subordinate members of a team be, well, subordinate, but he wasn't used to such chilliness from one generally friendly Major Carter. It used to be she smiled at him just so, but these days her eyes were guarded and the shape her mouth made was anything but a smile.

He gave up on getting anything other than the bare minimum out of Carter. "How much longer, Daniel?"

"Well," the archeologist said, "it'll be too dark in here to work in about forty-five minutes."

"I take it we're walking back in the dark then," the colonel muttered relishing the days when he was in charge.

"Do you wish us to leave earlier, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked, eyes still at half mast.

Jack waved him off and settled back into a more comfortable position on the bench. "Nah. Let 'em have their fun."

As the sun slipped down over the horizon, Jack became more and more alert so that eventually, when Daniel and Carter trudged out of the dark temple, he was standing and shifting from one foot to the other like he'd been standing there for some time.

"This planet was once a part of Sokar's domain," Daniel said conversationally, as if the very name didn't give Jack a shot of anger that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

" _Once_ a part?" Jack wanted clarification.

"It appears that he abandoned the planet long before our run in with him. And it seems, from the writings, like the people of this planet have always been a part of matriarchal societies."

"So you got the information you were looking for?" Jack asked him.

"I got pictures of everything. I only had time to translate a few things. I spent a lot of time on the Sokar panels."

"Well, we'll head back in the morning and you can get a start on your pictures back at the SGC," Jack said and set off in the direction of their accommodations.

"We're expected at dinner tonight," Daniel reminded them all. "They'll all begin gathering now that the sun's down."

"How could we possibly forget?" Jack wanted to know. They'd been guests of honor for the four days they'd been on the planet. So far the locals had been very forthcoming with information and had allowed Daniel access to anything he requested.

It took them no more than ten minutes to walk back to the center of the town and they all broke from formation to go to their various rooms to clean up a little for dinner. By the time they made it down to the hall where the feast was happening, there were platters being passed around long tables.

The leader, Astarte, saw SG-1 walk in and beckoned them over loudly. "My friends, come, come." She stood up and waved them over. There was a great smile on her face, and Jack had to admit she always seemed pleased to see them. "Colonel O'Neill," she said and patted the space on the bench next to her, "you've been saved a place." In fact, he noticed there had been space saved for the entire team, but as usual Astarte addressed only him. She had, on rare occasion, spoken directly to Daniel, but only when asked a question only she could answer.

As a matter of fact, Jack noticed the way she appropriated his arm as they sat next to one another. She hugged it against her body. Astarte was a very beautiful woman, but she was holding on to his eating hand and it had been a long day. Not to mention, it was a little awkward to be manhandled in front of his team...

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam slid into her place at the table and studiously avoided the way Astarte sidled up to the Colonel. She didn't care what he did. Not anymore. She might have thought she _felt_ for him. Once. But that was before he'd blown her off after Edora and then subsequently went on an undercover mission during which he said some things that she couldn't truly believe were only a part of his cover. If they were, in fact, why say them at all? She couldn't completely contain the grimace, though, as the Colonel climbed over the bench and took his seat next to Astarte.

She caught Daniel looking at her with a speculative look on his face. She didn't even want to know what he was thinking. Chances were he was right. Or would have been right. _Before_. She grabbed a tray of meats as it was going by and put some on her plate then looked around for the tray of cheeses she knew would be coming and saw it in Astarte's hands. She watched as the woman smiled flirtatiously at the Colonel who appeared none the wiser to her actual intentions. How he could miss that, though, she didn't know. He was a man with some experience with women, she'd guess. He should be able to spot interest from a hundred paces.

Astarte slid a hunk of smooth, white cheese onto the Colonel's plate letting her arm brush against his. Sam was suddenly glad that Teal'c was seated between her and the colonel because it made it much easier to ignore the whole situation. Which she'd start doing right now. She turned deliberately to Daniel.

"So what do you think it means that this planet was once Sokar's?"

"I'm not sure it means anything to us at this point. He's been gone for a while if I translated properly and considering how he was reviled, I think it's fair to say, from the way these people have relaxed, that it's been at least a generation since he left."

"So no nasty hell rooms we have to be worried about?"

He chuckled. "No, I don't think so." Daniel leaned around her and peered down the table to the Colonel and Astarte. "I don't think he realizes she's trying to put the moves on him."

He said it in a voice that suggested he was trying to be helpful, but considering he was only guessing what he thought was going on in Sam's head she decided not to play along. "I don't possibly know how he could miss it."

"Jack's not..." Daniel hesitated, "he's not, exactly... it's not like he's..."

"Oh for crying out loud, Daniel, spit it out," she said in a voice that, in hindsight, very well could have belonged to the Colonel.

"He's not the lady killer you apparently believe he is," Daniel said in a rush.

"I've never mentioned his prowess one way or the other," Sam said in what she hoped was a dismissive voice. And she hadn't. Not during Kynthia _or_ Laira. Nor had she speculated too much on his life pre- or post-Sara. It wouldn't have been proper to speculate, not even in the privacy of her own mind. Not that she'd always been particularly _proper_ when it came to thoughts of her commanding officer, but that was neither here nor there at this particular juncture. Not after the way he'd cut her down so fully with one blow after another.

Daniel just raised an eyebrow at her and went back to his meat. Sam sighed and accepted the tray of cheese that Teal'c finally passed to her. She avoided the creamy, white cheese that Astarte had slipped the colonel and went for something that looked a little sharper.

It would all be so much easier if she could convince herself that she didn't have feelings for him. But the truth was, she wouldn't be so hurt if she didn't.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Daniel accepted the tray of cheese from Sam and wondered, again, as she sighed, why she was putting herself through the ringer over Jack. How Jack hadn't seemed to notice was beyond him. Sort of like the way he hadn't noticed Astarte putting the moves on him little by little over the course of their stay. It had started out with heated looks and then had escalated into proprietary touches that clearly made Jack a little uncomfortable, but still he didn't seem to understand their motivation.

Or maybe he was playing dumb out of self preservation. Daniel would put his money on that, because while Jack may not be the lothario that Sam seemed to think he was, he was no slouch when it came to women. Maybe pretending like it wasn't happening was easier all the way around. Especially if he wasn't going to clue in to how badly it seemed to hurt Sam to see it happening.

Though, Daniel had to admit that Sam hadn't been looking at Jack the same since he'd come back from Edora. He'd been there when Jack had turned away from Sam in the middle of her explanation of his unlikely rescue to go to Laira. And Daniel, more than anyone, knew how hard Sam had truly pushed herself to bring him home. It was Daniel who had mentioned to Janet how he thought Sam might feel and Janet who had explained why things weren't as simple as Jack and Sam just talking it out.

And something must have happened between the two of them during Jack's undercover mission because she seemed to be treating him with a cool professionalism these days that made even Daniel a little chilly to be in the vicinity. Not that he didn't have some issues of his own with Jack following the undercover operation. Jack had been a real jerk to him and it had stung – even now still stung – even after knowing that he was playing a part. He wondered how much of what Jack had pulled out to say that day had been truth that the older man usually sat on.

"There doesn't seem to be much of Sokar left in the culture here," Daniel said, hoping to draw Sam back into the conversation so he didn't have to watch her push her food listlessly around her plate. If she wasn't going to eat it, the least she could do was talk to him, he figured.

"All we know of Sokar is that he built a hell. One would have to think there was more to him than that."

"But a purely matriarchal society? Doesn't seem like something a hell god would design."

"No," she agreed with him and pushed a particularly succulent looking bite of roast from one side of her plate to the other.

"I wish we had more time."

"Well, you're welcome to ask the Colonel, but I'm guessing we're out of here at ten hundred hours as scheduled."

Daniel waved a hand dismissively, "I'd need weeks in the temples here to really get to the bottom of anything. I've got photographs of the text inside only three of eighteen."

"Does that seem like a lot of temples to you?"

"How many churches are in Colorado Springs?" Daniel asked with a shrug.

"It's not the same thing."

"Close enough. Though to really speak to the number I'd need-"

"More time," Sam finished for him with a nod. "Sorry we're going home tomorrow."

Daniel leaned around her and looked down at Jack and Astarte. Astarte was running her hand from Jack's shoulder to elbow as he attempted to take a bite of his dinner. He frowned slightly before he took his bite. "Yeah," Daniel said distractedly, "me too."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack pushed his plate away, full to the brim on the fantastic meats and cheeses that had been provided for dinner. But he had to admit, he missed green vegetables a little after four days on this planet. And if he did, Carter the salad lover was probably going nuts. He looked down the table to see her plate full of food cut up into little bite size pieces. She appeared to have spent another evening playing with her food rather than eating it. He could order her to eat, he figured, but that wouldn't go very far towards thawing the chilly attitude she'd had towards him. Though, if her not eating continued, chilly attitude be damned – her health was worth more than her being happy with him. Maybe once they got home and she had access to Earth food... Maybe she just didn't like the local fare.

Astarte placed her hand high on his thigh to get his attention. He shifted uncomfortably and dislodged her hand. It was becoming clear to him that she was interested in more than his diplomatic skills. "It is a beautiful night," she said. "Perhaps you would like a moonlit tour of our city."

"That's very... kind and I'm sure Daniel would be all over that, but we've got to get ourselves prepared to move out in the morning. The 'gate is quite a hike away."

"Can I convince you to share some hot cider with me before you retire?" she cajoled.

They'd learned on the first day the cider was pleasant and more than mildly alcoholic. "No, thank you. I really need to get the team back to our accommodations."

She looked disappointed and he did feel bad. She'd been nothing but nice and solicitous, to him especially, since their arrival. He wouldn't have really expected treatment so good from the leader of a matriarchal society. Usually, in those situations, the men were treated like Carter's underlings, but he got the impression that her interest in him precluded the normal protocols.

He'd tried hard to make it look like he had no idea what was going on. Partly, he figured, because if he played dumb with her she'd eventually give up. Partly, also, because he didn't need to give his team anymore ammunition after Laira and Kynthia before her. He still heard more about both of those dalliances than he had any real desire to. Not that Laira was a mere dalliance. She'd been special, in a way, and manipulative in another to the point that he wasn't really sure how he felt about her. But knowing she might be pregnant with his child had made him invite her to Earth despite knowing he could be overheard by his team and they'd likely guess why he'd made the invitation. It wasn't that he was embarrassed, exactly, but it was a little strange to know that people had such knowledge of your sex life. The first time he'd gotten laid in over two years and it was out there for everyone to know about. That was what he got for being so easily manipulated.

It wasn't as if he hadn't kicked himself for that time and again. But Daniel seemed a bit pissed about the whole situation and he couldn't figure out why. Carter seemed disappointed in him and he thought maybe that had something to do with the fact that she'd always had him on a bit of a CO's pedestal. There might have been a little hero worship – that he didn't think he deserved – involved. Teal'c had given him one cross look and then that had been the end of it. But that one cross look made him wonder what, exactly, he was missing.

And then the undercover operation had happened and whatever was wrong with his team was just exacerbated by the asshole he'd had to pretend to be. And it had been difficult. He wasn't a natural asshole despite what some of his subordinates may have thought over the years. And the time he'd spent as an asshole after Charlie's death was a time he liked to forget about, for several obvious reasons.

He was pulled out of his thoughts about his team by Astarte's hand on him once more. He noticed, then, that people were getting up from the tables.

"I'll bid you good night, Colonel O'Neill," Astarte said and pressed a kiss to the corner of his eye as he'd seen several of their people do. It made him uncomfortable to have her lips that close to his, if he was being honest.

He looked over his shoulder and saw his teammates' eyes on them. Great. Just what he needed. "Thanks," he mumbled to the woman before turning towards his team. "C'mon guys, it's time to get settled in for the night. We've got an early morning ahead of us."

The four of them made their way back to their accommodations where goodnights were murmered as Jack reminded them that they were bugging out at oh six hundred the next morning to make the four hour hike to the gate. Daniel whined a little at the early morning but Jack's eyes were on Carter as he made the reminder. She was looking down at her boots the whole time, even as she popped off a smart, "Yes, sir," before she turned towards her room.

Jack sighed and turned away towards his door. He wished he knew what was so wrong between him and Carter. It just didn't seem right to end a day off-world without her brilliant smile.


	2. Part 1 - Chapter 1

Jack's watch alarm went off at zero five thirty, but he was already awake, staring at the ceiling, contemplating the reasons why Sam might be so cold to him lately. They'd always had a good working relationship that was friendly and maybe a little flirtatious. The fun, harmless kind of flirtatious, not the serious kind.

Jack rolled out of bed and pulled on his uniform, one piece after another until he wasn't a man thinking about a woman and was, instead, the commanding officer of the flagship team from Stargate Command. He went around the room making sure everything he'd brought with him was secured back in his pack and then, checking his watch, he stepped out into the hallway.

Teal'c was already there, waiting. The big man looked as patient as always holding his staff weapon like a walking stick – a very deadly walking stick. "Morning," Jack said, voice rough with disuse.

"Indeed it is, O'Neill," Teal'c replied, as he often did, with a verification of the time of day rather than a reciprocal greeting.

Jack looked down the hallway and out the window at the end at the grey, threatening sky. "Looks like a bad day for a four hour hike."

Teal'c followed his gaze. "If the rain does not fall, the clouds will keep the sun from becoming too hot. It may, in fact, be a perfect day for a four hour hike."

"Let's hope you're right," Jack said as a loud crack of thunder rumbled. "But it's not sounding good."

Nearly simultaneously Daniel and Carter's doors opened and the scientists filed into the hallway. Daniel looked half dead to the world without his coffee so Jack didn't even try to talk to the younger man. He'd wait until they'd been underway for a while and Daniel had the blood flowing.

Carter was looking down the hall and out the window with a pensive look on her face. "I think we're going to be walking in a downpour," she said. It was the first time she'd spoke before being spoken to in days, maybe longer, but he'd been noticing since they'd been on the planet. He thought it sort of sucked that it was to acknowledge something undesirable.

The foursome trooped down the hallway and out of the sort of hotel-like building to be greeted by Astarte and her collection of high ranking women. "We are sad to see you leaving, Colonel O'Neill. You and your team," she said.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Jack said, exactly as Daniel had coached after their first night getting to know the locals. Daniel had stressed how important propriety would be in a society run by women.

Astarte reached out and placed a delicate hand on Jack's bicep. "I, in particular, wish you would stay. At least wait out the storm," she offered.

"Thanks, but we've got a window and we've got to get back."

"As you wish." She nodded a little wistfully and her long, dark hair, slipped around her shoulders. It was nice hair, Jack though idly, but so long... it must get in the way.

As SG-1 walked off towards the gate, he could feel them being watched. It took a long time for that feeling to go away, perhaps a klick or more. The start of the walk was made silently, it was still early and there hadn't been any coffee and while it was dangerous to talk to Daniel in such a state, it wasn't exactly _fun_ to talk to Carter before coffee.

It was eighteen klicks to the gate and he didn't dare talk until they'd hit the five kilometer mark. When the sun was up and a light drizzle had started he chanced a little conversation. "We can see about coming back," he offered, "or at least send a team to photograph the rest of the temples."

Daniel looked up at him, surprised, and the rain lit on the younger man's features and he blinked behind his water speckled glasses. "Really?"

"We can talk to Hammond about it in the debrief."

"That's... really, that's... unexpected."

Jack knew it was. He wasn't usually so forthcoming with help when it came to Daniel wanting to spend more time on a planet. But Jack had to admit that this stay had been a cakewalk and rather pleasant, even if Astarte had a tough time keeping her hands to herself. If they were going to come back and stay a while, he'd simply have to have the _thanks, but no thanks_ conversation with her. But making the offer was Jack's small way of trying to make up for the things he'd said to Daniel while undercover. It wouldn't kill him to be a little solicitous if that was what helped smooth the ruffled feathers. Jack glanced at Carter and wondered what he might be able to offer her to do the same.

He drifted towards her and, when they were shoulder to shoulder, asked, "How'd you sleep last night?" because she seemed a little more listless than usual. Not too much pep in her step.

"Fine, sir."

Hmmm. _Sir_. Not that he wasn't used to hearing it from her, but she seemed to punctuate every sentence with it these days as if she were only replying because it would be insubordination not to.

"Too bad it's raining today," he tried again, because it had been a nice hike into the town when the sun was high in the sky, if a little hot.

"Yes, sir." Her voice was an unwelcoming monotone and he gave up, drifting away from her as they walked on.

Jack dropped back to Teal'c letting Carter take point, it wasn't as if there was anything to worry about on the planet, and it wasn't like he'd gone far. "How about you?" Jack wanted to know. "You doing okay?"

"I am fine, O'Neill."

"Looks like you were wrong about the rain."

"Indeed."

Jack knew he was in trouble if he was looking for conversation with Teal'c. The man had short responses down to an art form. Jack heaved a sigh and moved back into point position while resigning himself to a quiet hike.

In the next half hour, the rain started falling harder and the intermittent thunder started coming more regularly. Jack glanced up at the sky and hoped they'd be safe enough on the rest of the trip back to the gate. He supposed the chances of them getting struck by lightning were pretty slim, especially since he hadn't seen the lightning, only heard the thunder. The storm seemed to be centered behind them.

As they walked on, the storm got worse and it was around the fifteen kilometer mark that Jack started seeing lightning ahead of them. The storm had apparently caught up. He was glad they only had three more kilometers to go. He didn't mind a slog, but the weather was really getting bad.

"Colonel-" Carter called and when Jack looked over at her, she was pointing at a circular cloud formation over where the stargate would be.

"Great," Jack muttered. "Let's put a little speed on, folks."

Everyone did put a little more pep in their step and they made it the last of the distance in record time.

"Dial it up, Daniel," Jack called out to be heard over the thunder that was an almost constant companion by that point.

Daniel nodded and jogged over to the DHD. He entered the address for Earth and looked up to watch the event horizon form. They all watched as Carter entered the code into the GDO.

"Okay, time to head home," Jack shouted.

A bolt of lightning suddenly connected with the ground not fifteen feet behind the Stargate making them all jump and making the hair on Jack's arms stand up.

"Whoa!" Daniel yelled, "That was close!"

"Get through the gate already!" Jack hustled them. He watched as Carter jogged up the steps to the platform with Daniel hot on her heels. They both disappeared into the shimmering blue. Teal'c looked back at Jack as he was climbing the stairs and Jack waved him on, he was only ten feet from the platform himself. Teal'c stepped through the event horizon and just as Jack hit the platform another bolt of lightning came down and connected with the gate! Jack jumped back in surprise, turning his back on the sparks. As he did, he saw more lightning strike the DHD. He turned back to the gate in time to see the event horizon collapse.

"Dammit," he swore and hightailed it back to the DHD. He dialed Earth once more but when he pressed the red stone in the center nothing happened. So he tried again and then once more before he realized that the lightning had taken out the DHD.

"Sonuvabitch," he said shaking his head. What was he supposed to do now? Figured that his gate expert was on the other damn side of the gate. Hopefully – and thinking that she hadn't made it, that any of them hadn't made it, just wasn't happening. But as the storm continued to rage around him, he thought of their terse relationship of late and thought maybe it was for the best that she wasn't trapped in the storm with him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Out of habit, Sam looked back at the gate to watch her team rematerialize after the trip. She kept moving down the ramp to avoid being run over, but her head was turned towards the gate. She held her breath as first Daniel and then Teal'c appeared and she waited, breath still caught, for the colonel, but he didn't arrive.

"SG-1?" came Hammonds voice over the loudspeaker, "Where's Colonel O'Neill?"

"He was right behind us, sir," Sam answered still looking towards the gate. And then it blinked out, suddenly. "Uh-" she uttered.

"Where's Jack?" came Daniel's almost panicked voice.

"Clear the ramp," came Walter's voice, and Sam knew it was in case the gate connected again. They didn't want to be caught in the kawoosh.

From the base of the ramp, SG-1 watched expectantly, waiting for the gate to reconnect. Sam looked up over her shoulder and saw General Hammond looking equally interested in the state of the gate. When minutes passed and nothing happened Sam turned and looked up at the control room. "There was a storm," she said. "Maybe something happened to the gate."

The General waved her up and she hotfooted it out of the embarkation room and up the stairs into the control room. "We should try to dial the planet," she said as she entered the crowded space.

"Walter?" Hammond gave the indirect order.

"Yes, sir," Walter said, fingers already flying over the keyboard.

They all waited with bated breath as each chevron encoded but when it was expected that Walter would say, "Seventh chevron, locked," there was merely silence as the event horizon didn't form. "Seventh chevron wouldn't lock, sir," Walter said, looking over his shoulder at General Hammond.

"Try again," the General ordered. Once more they all waited and once more the gate didn't connect. They tried three more times with no success.

Finally General Hammond leaned over and pressed the button that would broadcast his voice into the gateroom, "SG-1, to the briefing room." He stood up to full height then said to Walter, "I want you to dial every hour on the hour until we've brought Colonel O'Neill home."

"Yes, sir," the technician said smartly.

Sam followed the General into the briefing room where they waited to be joined by Daniel and Teal'c. "If it's the storm, sir, it's possible that something has happened to the gate or the DHD and Colonel O'Neill is unable to dial home. If it's the gate, we'd be unable to reconnect."

"I'm aware of that, Major Carter. Please have a seat." Sam sat as directed. "We'll debrief while we wait to see if we can reconnect."

"Yes, sir."

They went around the table, each member of SG-1 present giving their accounts of the mission. Daniel was particularly interested to note the presence of the symbol of Sokar and they spent a good deal of time discussing the implications thereof. The General agreed with Sam's risk assessment that with Sokar's untimely demise and knowing that he hadn't been a presence on the planet in at least twenty years, that the actual threat was quite low. Daniel mentioned wanting to go back to study the rest of the temples but the General tabled that request until they knew whether or not they could even redial the planet.

Eventually, they were sent to the infirmary for their post-mission check ups. As she popped a thermometer in Sam's mouth, Janet gave Sam a careful once over when she heard that the colonel was trapped off world for the time being. Sam schooled her features. The truth was, she was worried. She'd just gotten him home and now he was gone again, for who knew how long. And with no idea what could have happened to the gate, short of lightning, she had no clue where to start with bringing him home. Of course, she'd been there once before and she managed to perform a miracle, so she wasn't ready to give up hope just yet.

But it was different this time. Her desire to get to him was clouded by her more recent feelings of sadness and betrayal. Not that she'd ever for a moment imagine leaving him stranded just because she was upset with him – not that he'd seemed to notice she was upset.

Janet pulled the thermometer out of Sam's mouth and looked at it with her eagle eye before tossing a concerned yet casual, "How you doing with all this?" at her friend.

"We'll figure something out," was all Sam would allow herself to say on the subject.

Sam could tell Janet didn't want to let it go. There was clearly much, much more she wanted to say on the subject but Sam's schooled features turned just the wrong side of hard and Janet backed off and finished the exam silently. Until, that is, her parting shot. "I'll pull you off active duty so fast it'll make your head spin. Careful this time, Sam."

Sam flinched. Her friend wasn't pulling any punches. As a matter of fact, her friend didn't sound like much of a friend at all and Sam was reminded that her closest friend also had the ability to bench her at any time she chose. It made Sam wonder if she should be branching out in the friends department. But with her social life, she felt lucky to have made a connection with Janet. Part of her wanted to turn angry at Janet's words, but the rest of her took the warning for what it was – Janet's concern that Sam was going to run herself into the ground _again_ just to bring the colonel home.

But again Sam was reminded she had no idea how to do that. And, once again, he was trapped on a planet with a beautiful woman who had eyes for him and wasn't that just fucking perfect? Couldn't take the man anywhere, really.

Sam escaped the infirmary in the wake of Janet's cautionary words and made a beeline for her lab. She wasn't sure what she should do, but anything she _would_ do would be done from her lab. It made her feel in control. And it wasn't until she was seated behind her metal desk that she realized how out of control she felt. How worried she was. How upset she was that, once again, he was gone. She was supposed to be mad enough at him that these feelings didn't surface, but the truth was, what she felt for him could weather the storm of Laira. It could even stand up to the things he'd said to her while undercover. And she hated herself just a little for feeling so strongly for him when he clearly didn't have feelings for her at all. Not that she'd expect him to have...

Sam leaned back in her chair and ran her hands through her hair. She expelled a breath through pursed lips and squeezed her eyes tightly closed. The gate. It had to have been struck by lightning. She leaned forward and opened up her laptop prepared to run simulations. Now she just had to figure out what could be done.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack pulled his cap off and ran his hand through his soaking wet hair then plopped his wet cap back on his head. The rain hadn't let up at all since he'd tried to dial the gate about a dozen more times in what he knew was futility. Really, it had just made him feel like at least he'd tried something while he waited around for nearly two hours to see if the SGC could get the gate to connect. When it was clear that there would be no wormhole in either direction, Jack reshouldered his pack and turned to head the eighteen kilometers back into town. He figured he could bunk back down in the hotel and possibly see if there was a gate expert amongst the townspeople. It was highly unlikely, but he was willing to grasp at straws in the face of being stranded off-world yet again.

Alone it took him less than four hours to make the trip despite the rain and the twinge in his knee. When he walked back into big hall where they'd taken their meals he was greeted by a young woman he'd seen a few times at Astarte's side.

"You have returned!" she said, sounding rather pleased. "Are you alone?"

"Trouble with the Stargate," he said. "My team made it through, I didn't. Was wondering if you all would put me up for another night until the storm lets up and I can check the gate again." Not that he was relishing another eighteen klick hike. In either direction, if he was honest, because his chances of getting the gate working on his own were slim to none. The DHD was fried. Even if he had replacement crystals and knew what to do with them, who knew what the overload of electricity did to the gate itself?

"Please wait here, I'll get Astarte."

He held up a hand, "There's no need to bother her. If I could just get a room for the night, I'll be all set."

She looked a little unsure about not fetching Astarte right away, but she led him back to the hotel-like building where one of the staff members was happy to get him settled into the same room he'd occupied the night before. "Thanks," he said, automatically reaching for his wallet for a tip and then realizing that he neither carried a wallet nor knew if one tipped on this particular planet. He settled for a smile and that seemed to go over well enough.

He dropped his pack on the floor in front of the dresser and momentarily felt bad about leaving the sopping thing on the expensive looking rug but it was practically wall to wall and where else was he going to put it anyway? He decided a hot shower was in order and thanked god this planet had fully functioning plumbing.

His clothes clung uncomfortably to his body as he attempted to wrestle his way out of his uniform. He pulled his boots off to find his socks were relatively dry and he chuckled a little at that. Under the hot spray he stood with his hands braced against the wall and let the water beat down on his back. It chased away the chills he'd had since he'd stopped moving. He washed his hair leisurely and all around took his time. After all, he had nowhere in particular to be until dinnertime. He might even catch a nap, he thought as he climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist.

He used a hand towel to dry his face and hair as he thought about Carter and wondered if she'd already figured out what had happened. He wondered if she was already working on a way to get him home. What if the gate couldn't be fixed? He figured then his only shot was to leave by ship so it would get down to whether or not Hammond could convince the Tok'ra or even the Asgard to mount a rescue mission for one man. Jack frowned. How likely was that? He thought, for the first time really, that he might actually be stuck on this planet. And, while it was far from the worst place he could imagine being stranded, he'd just gotten home from an extended stay on an alien world. He was hardly ready to do it again!

Lost in thought, he was startled by the knock on his door. He looked down at his bare chest and the towel hanging low around his hips. "Hang on," he called and rooted though his pack until he came up with a pair of trousers that was relatively dry. He didn't have the same luck with a shirt and so he gave a half hearted shrug and answered the door bare chested.

"Colonel O'Neill," Astarte greeted him before he could say anything. A smile touched the corners of her mouth as her eyes roamed his chest. He suddenly felt incredibly underdressed. "I heard you had asked to take further advantage of our hospitality. I came to tell you you are most welcome to stay as long as you like."

He cleared his throat, "Uh... thanks," and he scratched at his chest self consciously.

"And I would very much like it if you would be my guest at dinner tonight."

"Sure," he said a bit uneasily considering the predatory gleam in her eye. He'd suspected she was trying to put the moves on him but now that he was here alone, now that he was standing in front of her half dressed, he was suddenly sure her interest in him was much more than professional. "I mean," he remembered his manners per Daniel despite her salacious look, "I'd appreciate that, thank you."

"I will leave you to... get dressed then. Dinner will be at sunset, as usual."

"I'll see you then," he said already starting to close the door. She gave him one last all-over glance and then smiled at him knowingly before turning away.

He shut the door in her wake and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Great," he muttered to the empty room, "just great." Exactly what he needed on a planet he was likely trapped on. Yet another woman who apparently had a thing for him. What was it with alien women, he wondered. He didn't recall being such a stud on Earth.

By the time dinner rolled around one of his shirts had been dry enough to wear even if none of his jackets were. A black t-shirt and BDU pants were hardly _dressed for dinner_ by any stretch of the imagination, but they'd put up with it for four days already, he figured a little longer wouldn't hurt. Once again, inside the dining hall Astarte had saved him a seat next to her. She smiled at him as he walked in and he couldn't help but zero in on her right away. She was, by far, the loveliest woman in the room even if she did make him a tad uncomfortable with her interest.

He took his seat next to her and immediately accepted the plate of meats that was placed into his hands. One of the perks of being the guest of the leader of the people was being one of the first to be served. "I see you were able to find appropriate clothing," Astarte said _sotto voce_. It made him uncomfortable to be talking about his earlier half nudity with her in an intimate tone of voice. He just cleared his throat and mumbled something about being in uniform. She laughed lowly, a melodious sound that he hadn't heard from her before and he decided that, despite everything, it was nice.

She was kind and solicitous to him throughout dinner and she didn't touch him nearly as inappropriately as she had the night before. Her eyes, however, were suggestive as was the set of her mouth. He was sure, had he expressed desire, he'd be in her bed that very night. As it was, though, he cited tiredness from his 36 kilometer hike. And she, amazingly, let him go with a soft, wistful smile.

As he climbed into bed that night he thought about what life would look like if he were stranded for another hundred days. He wondered if he would come to relish Astarte's attraction to him. If he'd succumb to it. Then, he thought incongruously of Carter's smile and bright blue eyes. Huh. What was that all about? He'd been attracted to her from the beginning, when she'd walked into that briefing room all spit and fire. And he liked her, he really did. She was good people and he trusted her as a member of his team. But why, when he was thinking of a woman who wanted him – a woman he might want – had he conjured up her big blue eyes?

He shook his head to clear it. He'd had enough of women and the problems that came with them for the time being at least. Hell, he was still coming to terms with the fact that he could have left a pregnant woman on another planet because he didn't have the sense enough to keep it in his pants. Though, in his defense, he was pretty sure he had been stuck on Edora for good or at least long enough that any potential ramifications would be seen through. He'd never dreamed that Carter would find some way to save his sorry ass just three months after the gate had been buried. But, then again, of course she had. Because she was Sam-fucking-Carter and that's exactly what she did – pulled miracles out of her ass. Hell, he'd seen her do more impressive things than rescue him, so why was he so surprised?

He turned onto his side and punched at the pillow under his head. All these thoughts of women were messing with his circadian rhythm. He'd had a helluva day – he should be asleep already. Especially considering he'd be making the hike back to the gate the next day. He resolutely closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.


	3. Part 1 - Chapter 2

The next morning, Jack was awakened by the beeping of his wristwatch. He groaned and scratched at his belly with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. It had been a long time since he'd needed an alarm to wake him, but the hike had been long and the bed had been comfortable. He lay on his back and pried his eyes open to stare, for a few moments, at the ceiling and contemplate the day ahead. He had a long walk back to the gate, but first he wanted to find out if there was some sort of gate expert hanging around the town. He didn't have his hopes up, but he figured it was worth a shot.

He rolled out of bed sooner than he'd have really liked to and dressed down to his combat boots. He thought idly he'd probably spent more time in combat boots than he had any other shoes combined. He flexed he toes inside the boots as his put his cap on his head.

When he walked into the dining hall it was mostly deserted though the cooks had been up and ready because, as usual, there was a buffet of local breakfast fare lined up against one wall. Jack meandered over, wished there was a local variation on coffee, and settled for the closest thing he could get to a vegetable – a local fruit that wasn't too sweet - and a piece of sweet bread that he'd found he rather liked. He had energy bars in his pack that would take him the distance to the gate, but who was he to turn down the continental breakfast?

As he ate more people filtered into the dining hall and he was again struck by how strange it was that the townspeople all ate their meals together rather than in their own homes. It reminded him of the Academy a bit. He thought about how fascinating Daniel had found the everyday details of the townspeople's lives and he had another flash of worry that maybe his team hadn't made it through the gate. He stamped down on that as quickly as possible. Worrying about something like that would yield him nothing. He had to believe his team had made it home safely if he was going to concentrate on getting his own sorry ass back through the gate.

Jack ate slowly waiting for Astarte to arrive. The previous days she'd been up early and had eaten breakfast with SG-1 and he wondered where she was on this morning being that she hadn't shown up yet. And it was just as he was checking his watch and noting that he was getting a later start than he'd planned on, that she swept into the dining hall in the company of the one woman who always seemed to be with her, though Jack hadn't caught her name, as well as a younger woman Jack had seen in passing a few times.

He watched as Astarte scanned the room and he felt her eyes land on him like a caress. She spoke to the younger woman who was with her and the near-girl scampered off in the direction of the buffet as Astarte strode across the room to him. She slid into the seat across from him which he found strange considering up until that point she'd always sat next to him. He found the intensity of her gaze rather disconcerting as he was forced to meet her eye in their new seating arrangement.

"Good morning, Colonel O'Neill. I see I have come too late to share breakfast with you."

Jack gave her a half-hearted smile. "I need to get on my way back to the gate to see if anything can be done."

"Tell me about this trouble," she said, seeming genuinely concerned, though her people didn't use the Stargate for travel or anything at all, really.

"The gate and the DHD – the dialing device – were struck by lightning during the storm."

"And this has caused the... _gate_... to be unoperational?"

Jack nodded. "You wouldn't happen to have anybody around her who studied the gate and how it worked, would you?"

Astarte shook her head before he was even done asking the question. "As I have told you before, we do not travel through the giant ring, not for many, many generations. There is no one left who knows anything of it."

"Yeah," Jack said resignedly, "that's what I figured."

"And still you will make the trip again today?"

"I have to," he said, though he wasn't sure she'd understand that his need was as emotional as it was duty-bound.

"I do not understand what you think you will accomplish. If your gateway no longer will take you home then you must remain here with us."

Jack thought she looked entirely too pleased at the prospect. "I'm not ready to give up hope just yet."

"Our culture has much to offer a man like you, Colonel O'Neill," she said with promise in her voice. It was almost enough to make him curious what the culture would offer but he refrained from asking. That didn't mean, however, that she refrained from telling him. "There is space among those in my service." She made it sound as if that were a very attractive offer.

"Your service?" He didn't know what she was talking about, but he was certain he'd make a lousy servant. No, if he were to stay, he'd rather take his chances supporting himself.

"My consorts are well looked after," she cajoled. "I have thirteen," she boasted, "all of whom have access to greater things than the average citizen. It would be a... privilege. I do not ask just anyone."

Her consort? Did that mean what he thought it meant? God, he could really use Daniel right now. Not that he'd say yes no matter what it meant. "Well that sounds..." he shook his head, "really, but I'm pretty sure I'm not cut out to be in anyone's service. I'm a huge pain in the a— neck," he corrected.

"I find your spirit enticing," she said and her voice dropped in a way that made parts of him take notice and then he remembered that she was basically asking him to be a sex servant and that wasn't up his alley at all.

"Even so, and as flattering as the offer is, I have to decline."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I am not generally a woman one says no to, Colonel O'Neill. I find it... frustrating." And there was, in fact, an irritated flash in her eyes.

"I'm not exactly giving up on going home," he told her. "Even if the gate is irreparably damaged, there are other ways to get back to Earth."

"And what will you do in the meantime?"

"I'll earn my keep," he assured her.

"And I am offering you a most pleasant way to do that," she said. Her usually soft, melodious voice had taken on an edge he hadn't yet heard from her and he had to admit he found it more than a little menacing.

"Still, my answer is no." He tried to put it as gently as he could considering he was being propositioned, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings even if she was being rather high-handed about the whole thing.

"My offer will not be made again," she said.

It didn't matter. He wasn't even going to consider it. "I think it's time I headed for the gate," he said and pushed himself back from the table. "Thank you for your hospitality, ma'am," he said formally in hopes that he could re-establish the balance between them.

He made for the gate as quickly as he could. It took him a little over four hours to make the trek on his own with an aching knee and the hot sun beating down on him. As he expected his attempt to dial the gate yielded him nothing. In a last ditch attempt to save himself he pulled open the panel on the DHD and peered inside at the crystal components before he realized he had absolutely no idea what he was looking at.

He sat down in the shade of the DHD, took off his hat and wiped his brow. He'd just sit there a while, see if the SGC could make contact. In fact, he'd sit there until four hours before dark. It wasn't like he had any reason to head back to town any earlier than that. And the less time he had to spend with Astarte today while she was still smarting from his refusal of her offer, the better, he figured.

He picked at a blade of grass near his hip as he thought about what might be going on at the SGC. Maybe they were having a meeting about their options right that very moment. He figured they'd debriefed the night before since he hadn't stepped back through the gate with the rest of his team. Which meant today they'd, presumably, be doing everything they could to get him home. And he figured _everything_ meant applying Carter's considerable brain-power to the problem. He just hoped she had an ace up her sleeve.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam stared at her laptop screen as the most recent simulation finished and the data began scrolling. It was all a bit blurry in front of her eyes, but she chalked that up to catching only a couple hours of sleep the night before. Sure, the colonel had only been stranded for one day, but she'd been down this road before and getting him home as quickly as possible was her own personal mission objective – not to mention there was a considerable amount of pressure being applied from General Hammond, though General Hammond applying pressure was really not altogether unpleasant as he was, despite the stars and gruff demeanor, a gentle sort of man.

Sam hit the space bar to stop the data from scrolling up her screen and got up to get herself a cup of coffee. She needed to stretch her legs anyway. She took a peek at her watch and discovered she'd been at it so long she'd missed a couple of meals as well and her stomach took that opportunity to growl and remind her she had to feed it every once in a while.

It all felt oddly familiar. She remembered skipping meals and existing off coffee when the colonel was stranded on Edora. She couldn't pull that this time, Janet had already threatened her with being sidelined if she did. As Sam left her lab to head to the commissary she thought, briefly, of setting the computer to run one more simulation while she was away, but decided she wanted to go over the data she'd just collected before she did that. But first, however, she had to get some coffee in her so she could see straight. Her stomach rumbled again. Coffee and maybe a muffin.

The coffee was easy, the muffin was harder as it was late afternoon and muffins were generally only out at breakfast time but one of the cooks took pity on her and brought her a large, sticky-topped banana nut muffin that had Sam salivating before she'd even had it in hand. Though the commissary was mostly deserted anyway, she still opted to take her meal back to her lab to eat. She could already feel the coffee starting to perk her up – more psychosomatic than a caffeine effect – and she really was curious to see the results of the last simulation.

She sat down behind her laptop once more and shoved her muffin off to the side as she pulled the computer closer to her. She kept only her coffee close at hand. She pressed the spacebar once more and the data began scrolling again. She made a couple swift keystrokes and the printer whirred to life and spit out the most recent results so she could take her time over them.

She sipped her coffee as she reviewed the data. It was mostly what she expected – a direct lightning strike, no matter the strength, apparently – would overload the gate and cut off any open wormhole. The trouble was, short of being strong enough to fuse the stargate's rotating ring in place, lightning should only affect the gate momentarily. And they still couldn't connect. She supposed the lightning could have been as strong as it was in one of her first simulations and had fused the gate together, but it seemed unlikely as, on Earth anyway, lightning that strong was only common in certain geographic areas of the world. The likelihood that the gate was in one of those places on the planet was slim, Sam posited. Though she was basing her speculations on Earth knowledge and a little UAV data that showed the planet and its atmosphere were very similar to Earth – as most of the planets they visited were.

So, assuming the gate wasn't fused, there had to be another issue or the Colonel would have dialed home already. She'd just abandoned her coffee for her laptop to try another simulation, this time assuming lightning had struck the DHD, when the General walked into her lab.

She popped up out of her chair on muscle memory alone considering her brain was still mostly focused on her new hypothesis. "Good afternoon, sir," she managed.

The General waved her back down into her seat. "Major Carter," he greeted. "I came to see how you were coming along with your simulations."

Sam surreptitiously looked at her watch, she had a meeting with the General to give him that very information in a little over an hour and a half.

He must have seen her glance at her watch though because he chuckled humorlessly and said, "I know I'm jumping the gun a little, it's just that all of this feels a little too familiar right now," echoing her earlier thoughts.

"Yes, sir, I agree. So far I've found very little that could be considered helpful," she admitted. "I know that it would have taken a very powerful lightning strike to fuse the gate and make it unmovable, and therefore untraversable. Lightning strikes that powerful are just simply not that common on Earth outside specific geographic areas. It is possible that the gate is in a volatile geographic area on P3R-289 but I'd deem it unlikely. Which brings me to my current hypothesis that something has happened to the DHD, perhaps another lightning strike."

"And how do you fix a DHD that has been struck by lightning?"

"I guess that depends on how the lightning affected the DHD, sir. I've just started running simulations on the DHD. But the truth is, we don't have near as much data on the behavior of the DHD as we do on the behavior of the gate. Even if I do determine what likely happened to the DHD I may not be able to tell you how to fix it. Even if I could, I wouldn't be able to relay that information to Colonel O'Neill in order for him to fix the gate to come home."

"It sounds like you're saying you can't get him home through the gate."

"I just don't know yet. It's possible that something else happened to the gate or to the DHD."

"So you need more time."

"Yes, sir, I'm afraid so."

General Hammond rocked back on his heels. "Then, Major, I'll leave you to it. There's no need to keep our meeting for this evening. If you find something, you'll let me know?"

"Immediately, sir." But, she wasn't optimistic and she could feel the dread on her face.

He hesitated before turning towards the door. "Colonel O'Neill will be fine, Major Carter. You yourselves have said that the people of the planet couldn't have been nicer."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack trudged into town just as the sun was going down. He contemplated skipping dinner as all he really wanted was his bed. After seventy-two klicks in two days, he'd had it. But his stomach was rumbling and letting him know that three energy bars and the meagre breakfast he'd had weren't enough to sustain him with the kind of exercise he was doing. So, hot and sweaty he made his way into the dining hall.

Astarte spotted him immediately and her face, that so often had lit up when he'd appeared, took on a guarded, thoughtful sort of look. Huh. How about that? For the first time he didn't feel welcome at her side and he wondered, now, what was he supposed to do? Sit elsewhere and risk offending her further? Or go sit uncomfortably next to her in the wake of declining her proposal?

After a few heartbeats of him looking between her and the rest of the room, her shoulders squared and she waved him over. "Colonel O'Neill," she said coolly as he approached the table. She indicated the seat across from her rather than at her elbow and he wasn't sure if he was pleased or not. This way he'd have to look her in the eye and he was feeling a bit like a heel even if he hadn't been interested in her proposition in the slightest. He climbed over the bench and sat down trying hard to avoid her eyes. He wasn't entirely lucky. He saw a shrewdness there that he hadn't seen before. She finally looked like a leader instead of like a woman, and he suddenly realized how much she'd turned the charm on for him. It was so shockingly clear in its absence that he wondered how he hadn't been more attuned to it before.

He waited his turn as trays were passed around the table and he realized, then, what an honor it had been to be seated to the left of Astarte when he looked at the plate of picked-over meats. Not that it wasn't still tasty-looking, but it was clear the choicest cuts had been chosen by those that had come before him. It didn't really matter, he was hungry enough to eat a live horse, so he slid some meat onto his plate and dug in happily as he waited for the cheese tray to come around.

"I do not suppose you have reconsidered my offer."

Jack looked up at her sharply. He hadn't expected to have to turn her down again and it made him uncomfortable all over. He decided to shoot for diplomatic and see what happened. "I understand that it's a great honor to be chosen, but you have to understand that your ways are very different than mine."

"But if you are to remain here, must you not assimilate to our way of life?"

"I suppose I would, yeah, but I still haven't given up hope that I'm going home."

"And how will your people bring you home if your gate no longer will function?"

"There are other ways," he said, reminding himself, too, that he wasn't stranded for good, though he had no way of knowing how long it would take to come get him. For all he knew it would be after Earth built spaceships of their own.

"I will admit I am disappointed by your reluctance to join my service."

"That's very... flattering."

"I wish for you to join me after dinner."

"Why?" Uh-oh, was all he could think.

"I wish only to show you that your declination has not permanently harmed our friendship."

"That's kind, but unnecessary." Really, all he wanted to do was go to him room, take a hot shower and get some sleep.

"I'm afraid I must insist," she said with a smile obviously intended to curl his toes. All it did was make his stomach clench.

"Okay," he acquiesced. After all, how long could it possibly take to mend a few fences?

Once they were done eating Astarte led him through the dining hall, out into the street and then to her private home which SG-1 had never been invited into thus far. While her home looked quite comfortable he was anything but as he followed her deeper and deeper into the house and then, finally, down a flight of steps. He actually found himself thinking that he was bigger than she was and would have no problem overpowering her if it came to it. He shook himself suddenly. She hadn't done anything at all to give him the impression that she wanted to hurt him, why had he immediately gone there in his mind?

"Please," she said, indicating a beautifully tapestried wingback chair, "have a seat." She sat across from him on a chaise longue.

He took his hat off and sat down in the chair. He fiddled with the bill of his cap while she looked at him with a predatory smile. Okay, _now_ he had a reason to be uncomfortable.

"There is no need to be nervous, I only wish to share a glass of wine with you."

"Uh... thanks, but it's been a long day, I don't think I'm up for a drink..."

Her gaze shifted to the doorway and his followed. Into the room walked the two young women he'd seen with Astarte before and a half a dozen more. One of the women was carrying two glasses of deep red wine. The back of his neck started to tingle like it did when something was about to happen, but he kept shoving it down wondering what he was so worried about. This was a woman who'd been nothing but solicitous since his arrival. He had no real reason to believe there was anything nefarious about her or her offers. So why did he feel like he was waiting in the lion's den?

The young woman with the glasses handed him one first and then Astarte the remaining glass. She lifted her glass to him, then with a twinkle in her eye she took a drink. In the back of his mind he figured if she was drinking it too, it had to be fine and he was being overly cautious, though he'd admit he'd have felt better if he'd watched them pour the glasses from the same bottle.. He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. It tasted familiar, like a vintage he'd probably tried at home and discarded because of the way it scratched at the back of his throat, but he knew that this was no twelve dollar bottle of wine.

Suddenly, his eyes crossed of their own volition. He was able to pull his sight back into focus, and he looked at the glass askance. Surely he couldn't be drunk after one sip. Then he saw the young women closing in on him. One, with a smile, curled her hand around his on the glass and brought the stemware to his lips as the other women circled around the chair and placed their hands on his shoulders.

Oh, this just wasn't right, he thought. Part of his brain was kicking into fight mode but the rest of his brain was feeling rather fuzzy. As he contemplated the cotton wrapping up his thoughts, more of the wine was tipped into his mouth. He swallowed reflexively. It was then that it hit him. He knew where he'd tasted this wine before.

He felt himself begin to spiral down the rabbit hole and tried, desperately, to hang on to his sanity while he could.

He'd tasted it in Netu. He wasn't drinking wine, he was drinking the Blood of Sokar.


	4. Part 1 - Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins some pretty graphic violence. This chapter isn't nearly as bad as what's coming, though, so if this is too much for you, you'll know this story might not be for you.

Jack looked around. He was standing in the yard of his parents' house in Minnesota, the one they'd lived in when he was a kid. The air was hot, heavy, and humid. He could smell his mother's hydrangeas on the slight breeze. The paint on the house was fresh and he remembered the summer his dad had painted vividly. It was a perfect replica. It was so real he could taste summer in the air. But his mind fought against the evocative picture, it was more than thirty years in his past, it shouldn't feel so visceral.

Scotty Parks was twenty feet away tossing a baseball into the air shouting, "C'mon Johnny, hurry up!"

Jack was jolted when he heard the familiar voice and moniker. He saw himself at eight years old run out of the house and take up a position across from Scotty. Scotty tossed the ball to eight-year-old Jack and suddenly he could feel the ball impact his hand and he realized he was looking out at the world from his much younger body. And wasn't that just an odd sensation?

He threw the ball back to Scotty and then caught it again when it sailed his way. Scotty took a step back towards the road and Jack was suddenly very sure exactly what day he was experiencing. He immediately fought against it, but it was no use. The best he could do was pull himself out of his childhood body and back to standing off to the side witnessing it all from his place near the pear tree his mother had planted. His eyes were drawn to the details of the leaves and he even reached out to touch one, warm and slick in the sunlight.

"You got any Coca-Cola?" Scotty called, drawing Jack's gaze to the small, curly-headed boy.

"Naw, Scotty, mom says no pop."

Jack could remember the conversation like it were yesterday. He knew the inflections he was hearing in his and Scotty's voices were perfect recollections of the actual day.

His mouth went dry and his palms started to sweat. He knew what was coming and, like a train wreck, he couldn't look away.

"I can't believe you lost the good ball to _Harvey Feldstein_ ," Scotty groused as he tossed the ball back to Johnny.

"He's never hit a homer before," little Johnny protested. "How was I supposed to know?"

"You shouldn't have bet the good ball anyway."

"I didn't see you putting anything up."

"What do I got that Harvey Feldstein would want?"

"What do you got that anybody would want?" Johnny asked with a wicked grin.

Scotty threw the ball at him with some force and stumbled backwards into the road.

"Geez, careful!" Johnny shouted. "If mom saw that she's gonna have our hides!"

The sound of the screen door clacking against the house split the air. "You boys be careful now, you throw that ball into Old Man Masterson's place and I'm gonna make you go get it." Jack's gaze was drawn to the front stoop where he father stood, dressed in brown trousers, a white tank-top undershirt and suspenders. His chest seized. It had been years since he'd seen his father, even in a dream, if that was what this could be called.

"Dad," Jack gasped softly as Johnny and Scotty groaned comically.

"You wanna play, dad?" little Johnny asked.

"Nah, I'll just sit here and watch a while."

It was all so real. Jack remembered the feel of the leaf between his fingers and wondered how much in this world he'd be able to touch. Wondered if he'd be able to change anything. But he hung back, didn't step in. Didn't snag the ball out of the air between the boys as they tossed it back and forth.

Jack watched in horror as a car drove by too fast and ruffled Scotty's hair. Scotty stumbled forwards with his hand on the back of his head saying, "Whoa!"

"Come in from the road, son," Jack's dad called out.

Scotty made his way into the yard a good ten feet and tossed the ball back to Johnny. "That was close!"

Jack started to feel dread build up within him as he watched the boys play happily, his father sitting on the front stoop picking at dirt under his fingernails and watching the game of catch.

It happened in slow motion. Johnny threw the ball too hard, Scotty ran backwards, face turned towards the sky to catch it, a car came careening around the corner. Scotty stepped into the road. The driver was looking down. Jack's dad stood up and yelled, "Scott!" The driver looked up. Slammed on the brakes. There was a thump and a scream. Scotty flew through the air. And then there was blood.

Johnny stood transfixed, Jack's dad took off at a run and so did Jack. Jack reached Scotty first and assessed the situation. Scotty was bleeding from a gash in his head and one arm and leg were twisted grotesquely.

Little Johnny crept closer then screamed for his mother.

Jack's dad's hands were fighting Jack's for space to check Scotty's injuries. The driver had gotten out of the car and was casting a shadow over Scotty. Jack held the boy in his arms gently, knowing there was nothing that could be done, Scotty wasn't even breathing. Jack looked back at Johnny, the boy was creeping closer and closer and Jack hollered for him to stay back while at the same time knowing it was the fact that he'd seen the accident, seen the body, that had facilitated this moment.

Suddenly he was looking through eight-year-old eyes at his father cradling Scotty's head with blood all over his hands and forearms. He felt the terror the same way he had that day, no buffer was the distance of time. He watched his friend lying there, hoping against hope that he was going to be fine. His mom, who had run outside as soon as he screamed for her, had run back inside the house to call for an ambulance. He could hear her raised voice through the screen door.

Then it was like time slowed down. His father turned to him, his voice low and stretched out telling him to go inside. Johnny stood his ground, he turned his head, it felt like through a thick syrup, to focus on Scotty's face, slack with blood covering one eye and cheek. He looked back at his father as the sudden urge to vomit raced up his spine, he swallowed and held his lunch, but his stomach roiled.

All of a sudden, Jack was sucked back out of Johnny's body and he was standing under the pear tree again, watching it all unfold. His hands felt sticky, though, and when he looked down he was covered in blood. He looked back at the macabre scene unfolding before him and watched as Johnny stumbled backwards as his father repeated the order to go inside.

Tears sprang into Jacks eyes at the same moment Johnny began to tear up. As Johnny cried, Jack took a deep breath and blinked the wetness away. It became clear to little Johnny as he sobbed that his friend wasn't just injured, but he was dead and when his mother came back out of the house, he clung to her, buried his face in the curve of her waist. Jack watched as his mother met his father's eyes and his father shook his head with a grim look on his face.

His mother ran a hand over Johnny's hair and shushed him, rubbed a hand over his back and Jack swore he could feel her gentle touch the same way he felt the oppressive weight of dread settled down around him. He looked back down at his hands, at the blood, and he _knew_ that it couldn't be real. That he was just a boy when Scotty was killed. But the blood on his hands told him it was happening in that very moment, that Jack was a part of it as much as Johnny was and still, time didn't seem to factor into it.

Emotions swirled around inside of Jack making him at first distraught and then enraged by the fact that he was made to relive this horrible moment from his childhood. Though he was in it, he was outside it and he knew, he was aware that it was a dream, some kind of hallucination, he thought as he looked again at the blood on his hands.

He yelled with frustration, "What do you want?"

Before his eyes his father became Astarte and the grin she gave him was almost feral and that coupled with the blood, gave him a fierce chill that he felt to his bones.

"What is this?" he snarled at her.

She didn't say a word, she just dropped Scotty's body and he landed with a sick thud on the pavement.

In the next moment his childhood home was gone and he was back in the room in Astarte's house, but it seemed dark and red and black and he knew he was still hallucinating as the walls seemed to close in on him. He closed his eyes, squeezed them tight, and willed his mind to obey him.

Instead, it shut down.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam found herself uncharitably wondering what the Colonel was doing at the very moment she realized she'd been up for nearly twenty-four hours trying to figure out how to bring him home. Was he in Astarte's company? Kicking back? Enjoying life off-world again? Had he already decided he was in for a long stay or did he believe she'd do whatever it took to bring him home again? Did he assume she really was a miracle worker? Did he believe his stay was short? Or was he gearing up for another extended stay?

It wasn't so long ago that she'd not have, for a moment, thought one uncharitable thing about him. Before he was stuck on Edora, and before he was on the undercover mission, she'd known her feelings for him had blown far past professional admiration. Sure, she'd told Janet there was no problem when she'd asked during the time Sam had been working herself to death to build a particle accelerator, but she'd lied to her friend outright. At that point, Sam was already certain she was in trouble. But friend or no, Sam wasn't about to tell another officer that she'd developed inappropriate feelings for her commanding officer. No, part of her thought she could get it under control.

And maybe, in the wake of Edora and the undercover mission, she had. She certainly didn't feel the way she used to feel. Though, it wasn't that she felt an absence of affection, it's that she felt an abundance of hurt. And if she truly didn't care, shouldn't she be feeling ambivalent? She shook her head and turned back to her simulation.

It didn't matter what she felt: good, bad or indifferent. Her job was to bring him home. And she had to admit, that the more simulations she ran, the more she was convinced that getting to him through the gate was never going to happen. Without physically being on his side of the gate there was nothing she could do. She didn't want to go to the General with that prognosis so she continued to run simulations, hoping she'd stumble over something useful.

"Please tell me you've been home. Or gotten some sleep. Something," came Daniel's voice from her doorway.

Dammit, she didn't have time for this. "Of course I've slept," she snapped, "it's been two days since he was stranded on the planet."

"It was a reasonable question considering," he said. He didn't have to say it was in consideration of her behavior when the Colonel was trapped on Edora. Anyway, by now Daniel was pretty used to Sam snapping at him when she was stressed and overtired so neither one worried about it too much. "Besides, I'm talking about real sleep. In a bed. For more than a couple of hours."

Sam scoffed but it was a giant pain in the ass that he knew her so well. Because it was true: she'd caught only a couple of hours here and there with her head down on her desk when the numbers started to run together too much and she was in danger of reading the data incorrectly.

"He'll be fine, you know. They were nice people."

"So were the Edorans and you all wanted me with my nose to the grindstone to get him home from that planet."

"Our definition of nose to the grindstone is a bit different than yours," Daniel pointed out gently.

"What do you want me to say, Daniel?" she huffed.

"Say you're not going to run yourself into the ground again. We need to get him home, yeah, but there's no need to kill yourself making it happen."

"I didn't kill myself last time."

"Not for a lack of trying."

"Daniel..." she warned lowly.

He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay. So... how's it going?"

"Not good," she admitted.

"Not good like you have to build another machine or not good like we can't get him home?"

"Like getting him home through the gate is unlikely."

"You'll figure something out."

"I guess I'll have to," she said, somewhat bitterly. Sometimes it really sucked to be to only go-to person in these situations. Her computer beeped at the end of yet another simulation and she shot Daniel a look.

"I'll leave you to it, then. Good luck," he said as he backed out of the room.

"Thanks," she muttered and reached for her cup of coffee as her eyes roved over the data on her screen. She took a swallow of coffee only to find it had gone cold. Too bad, she needed it and she wasn't getting up for fresh until she'd seen the results.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack came awake like he'd been dunked in ice cold water, but when his eyes sprang open and he looked around he realized he was alone. And in a cell. A _nice_ cell, but a cell nonetheless. The décor inside the cell gave him the impression he was still in Astarte's house. He felt weak, and wrung out and he remembered, too well, the side effects of the Blood of Sokar. At least there wasn't a Goa'uld around with a pain stick. Or well placed punches. At least, he thought grimly, he wasn't being tortured. Well, physically tortured.

Because what that first taste of the Blood of Sokar had told him was that they intended to psychologically torture him. Sure, the memory of Scotty Parks' death was a horrific one. He'd had nightmares for a long time after that, of seeing his father covered in Scotty's blood. And he'd harbored a lot of guilt. If only he hadn't thrown the ball so hard... It took years for him to realize it was really just a tragic accident and to stop blaming himself at every turn. That was a tough burden for an eight-nine-ten year-old to carry.

But really, the whole thing just pissed him off. He didn't want to relive that moment, and it had been a huge burden to carry as a child, but it wasn't, by far, the worst moment of his life. And he was afraid what would happen if they continued to subject him to the Blood. He could tell by the way he felt that he couldn't physically stop them from holding him down and forcing him to drink the liquid. He was weak and the effects of the substance were long enough lasting that if they drugged him regularly enough he'd never have a chance to fight back. All he could hope was that they'd underestimate his constitution and give him a chance to fight back. But even if he escaped, what then? With the Stargate out of commission what would he do?

Could he set up camp near the Stargate? Or even just a few klicks from the town? Close enough that he could see rescue if it came? Maybe, but it wasn't much of an escape plan considering he'd be easy enough to find living out on his own like that, not really hidden away as well as could be.

He supposed he could try to find more people. Surely the planet's population didn't consist of this one small group of people. But suppose the SGC found a way to get him home and then they couldn't find him? They'd be looking in this town not somewhere far off that Jack had been able to escape to. So despite the possibilities of the torture, Jack grudgingly came to the conclusion that he needed to stay. He'd been through worse, he figured, he could survive this.

He thought he could anyway. But everything felt so real when he was inside the hallucinations, and if he could inhabit his body while inside, was it possible that he'd have to relive the physical torture he'd been subjected to? Could he really take that again coupled with the compounding pressure of the psychological torture? Could he withstand it while he waited for Carter to pull some save out of her ass? He had a lot of faith in her after she was able to rescue him from Edora, but how good was she, really? Good enough to save him before the torture got to be too much to handle?

And what of him once he was saved? What kind of place would his mind be after being made to relive the worst moments of his life? Because damned if the Blood of Sokar would let you hallucinate pleasurable things. His experience with the stuff so far said things were going to get worse. Much worse.

A noise pulled him out of his reverie and he felt his body tense in preparation for fight or flight even though his brain knew he was capable of neither in his current condition. He couldn't see very far outside his cell as the area outside wasn't lit as the cell was from within. He had no way of knowing if he was being watched even at that very moment. He tried desperately to tune his ears for any sound at all, suddenly wary of not being alone. Soon, he heard the noise again and it seemed to be coming from above him. Someone walking around upstairs perhaps. Cells would be in a basement, right? Not something you'd have in a lounge room for anybody's viewing.

Unless, maybe Astarte wasn't the benevolent leader she seemed. He'd have never guessed that her desire for him would turn her to something like this. He hadn't even thought it had been that serious an attraction that she'd have to go to such lengths to make him a part of her service. Or maybe it was less about the attraction and more about her getting what she wanted no matter what it took. Though what she'd want with a broken down man he couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling breaking him was exactly what she had in mind.

As he thought more and more about what he was to be subjected to and the possible reasons for it, his anger grew – intensified by the last vestiges of the Blood of Sokar running through his system. His fight response was growing stronger though he knew it was a moot point, he'd be unable to fight anyone who came to him now with anything more than a half-hearted struggle. It would take only a couple of those young women to hold him down and force another dose of the drug into his system. It made him feel helpless and helplessness made him feel rage. A burning rage that took up residence in his belly and made his mind begin to flash with leftover images from his memory of Scotty's death.

Jack fought against the memories not wanting to walk down that path again while he was still feeling raw. But with only the remaining tendrils of the Blood of Sokar wrapped around his brain the memories weren't nearly so vivid and were merely that – memories long buried that had been dredged up by the hallucination.

Jack scooted back so he could lean against the brick wall that made up the back and one side of his cell. He pulled his knees up in front of him protectively and wrapped his arms around himself. He listened for more footsteps over his head and heard the occasional pass from one side of the room to the other. He wondered where the door was into the room he was being kept in, wondered if he'd be able to anticipate the approach of someone by where the footsteps stopped. He leaned his head back against the wall and shored himself for a wait and then another dose of the drug and hoped the next memory would be something he could weather.


	5. Part 1 - Chapter 4

After a week Sam was more than ready to admit defeat. Hell, she'd been ready after only a few days but had, at the urging of everyone, continued to run her simulations and had even gated to another planet to study a DHD more fully so she could try even more simulations.

She wondered how the colonel had spent the last seven days? For how many days did he make the trek back to the gate? Was he still going, hoping the SGC would make contact? Or had he worked out that going home through the gate wasn't an option? Had he finally figured out that Astarte was interested in him? Had he succumbed to her interest?

When the heat of pain stabbed through her at that thought she realized that as angry and as hurt as she was, she couldn't deny she still had strong feelings for him. After a week of trying everything she could think of to bring him home, there was no getting around the fact that her feelings for him were just as strong as ever. But that didn't mean that she wasn't still feeling betrayed over his dalliance with Laira or hurt over the things he'd said to her during his undercover mission, but she was finally ready to admit that she could feel the betrayal, the hurt, and the affection – for that all she was willing to cop to at the moment – at the same time.

Her feelings were complicated and tangled up inside her. The trust she'd had in him she'd thought was absolute had turned out to be fairly easily shaken when he'd lied to her about the mission. Intellectually she knew he couldn't tell her – wasn't supposed to tell her – but it didn't stop the feeling that he should have. They were a team, after all, and she'd elevated that team in her own heart to a place of superiority. Not to mention he was her commanding officer and a man she thought of as a friend.

And she'd admit the Laira thing hurt not only because he'd turned away from her in the midst of her explaining just how she'd managed to get him home, and not just because it was clear that he'd entered into some kind of relationship with the woman, but because of the speed at which it had happened. She'd always had a bit of a fantasy that she wasn't alone in her feelings for him and to be slapped in the face with the truth had hurt in a way she wasn't prepared for.

Sam shook her head to dispel the line of thought that always seemed to occur when she thought about her commanding officer these days and checked her watch. It was nearly time for the meeting with the General during which she'd have to surrender her search for methods to bring him home. It was time to start considering alternative methods and she wasn't sure how, exactly, that was going to go over.

She collected the sheaf of papers that was her data and made her way to the briefing room. Daniel and Teal'c were already there, sitting in their usual spots. She looked at her chair and found that the colonel's was conspicuous in its emptiness. It made her gut clench that she'd failed so spectacularly.

"You don't look like you had a eureka moment," Daniel commented as she took her seat.

"I didn't."

"You look as if you have not had enough sleep, Major Carter," Teal'c said.

It took everything she had not to snap at the man who truly didn't deserve it. He wasn't being unkind. If anything it was his way of showing concern. "I'm fine, Teal'c."

"Perhaps you would enjoy a cup of coffee," he said and got up to make her one before she could even respond.

She smiled at that. "Thanks."

Teal'c made her cup of coffee and was sliding it across the table to her when the General walked into the room. Sam made to stand but he waved her back down and she sank into the chair gratefully. Okay, maybe she was a little tired.

"Tell us what you've found, Major."

She took a deep breath. "It's impossible to know if the gate, the DHD or both are damaged, but I would say there's a high probability that the DHD is or the colonel would have tried to dial home."

"Unless the gate was fused?" General Hammond asked for clarification.

"That's right. But we can't know the state of the gate or the DHD without putting eyes on them. And since gating to the planet isn't an option – which leads me to believe that the gate really must be fused – the only way to assess the situation would be to travel to the planet by ship."

"But we don't really care about the gate, do we?" Daniel asked.

"No, we don't," Sam agreed. She squared her shoulders and looked at the General. "I think it's time we start researching alternative methods of getting Colonel O'Neill home," Sam said.

"Alternative methods? What did you have in mind, Major?" General Hammond wanted to know.

"We're going to have to retrieve him by ship."

"We don't exactly have one of those lying around," Daniel pointed out.

"We'll have to ask for help from one of our allies."

"The Asgard?" Daniel suggested, no doubt because that would be the quickest method. Not to mention, "Jack did just help them retrieve a bunch of their stolen technology. Maybe they're feeling a reciprocal generosity."

"Our relationship with the Asgard is shaky at best, currently," General Hammond pointed out. "Colonel O'Neill went a long way towards mending fences, but there's no guarantee they'd be feeling particularly helpful at the moment. Furthermore, they're fighting their own war. I can't imagine they'd be willing to take time out from defending their galaxy to play taxi."

"I was actually thinking that we should ask the Tok'ra," Sam suggested. "After the rescue mission we pulled off earlier this year maybe they're the ones who will be feeling generous."

"Generous is not a word I would use to describe the Tok'ra," Daniel said. "Besides, we were rescuing _your_ father."

"And Selmak," Sam reminded him.

"How long would the trip take in the Tel'tak?" Daniel asked.

"I'm not sure. I'd have to calculate it."

"I'm surprised you haven't done that already, Major," the General said, not without a note a humor in his voice.

"It depends on the specific Tel'tak," she said and could feel herself blushing because she would have, for sure, calculated how long it would take to get to Colonel O'Neill if she'd been able to. "The Tok'ra don't always have access to ships in the best working order."

"Well, that's neither here nor there until we know whether or not the Tok'ra are willing to help," General Hammond pointed out.

"Permission to contact the Tok'ra, sir?" Sam asked.

"Yes, Major. And I think we should do that now."

Sam felt both relieved that the General was so willing to take this step and nervous that the Tok'ra would say no. But she'd have a while to quell those butterflies as once they made contact it would take time, maybe hours, maybe days, for the Tok'ra to reply.

In the control room, the slight conversation stopped with the General walked in with SG-1 in tow. "Walter," General Hammond said, "dial up the Tok'ra. We've got a request."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack huddled in the corner of his cell. He'd lost track of the days already but he knew there had been memories. More than one. He almost wished he could go back to that memory of Scotty's death as it would have been a hell of a lot easier than the memories he'd been living through. He'd relived many of his worst memories already, moments when he'd tortured himself over decisions made – like when his command decisions resulted in loss of life, or when, during war time, he'd had to choose between the lives of two children, who to save – or lived through horrific things – like the parachuting accident that was more psychologically damaging than physically, or the time he'd watched a woman and her baby be gunned down by overzealous friendly fire in a war torn country. He'd hallucinated brand new hells he hadn't yet had to endure where the people he cared about were tortured before his very eyes and there was nothing he could do about it.

He waited for the newest assault, his brain clawing its way through the Blood as he learned to resist the effects that pulled him under. He could fight it, yes, but he'd yet to beat it. He tried to stand, but he was as weak as a newborn foal and just as wobbly. He settled for traversing the cell on his hands and knees. In the other corner was a bit of a bed and he wanted to be lying down when the next one hit, it made the coming out of it easier if he didn't have to hold himself up.

He collapsed onto the bed and his stomach roiled. Memories ago he'd stuck his fingers down his throat after the Blood had been forced on him, but it didn't seem to matter that he'd thrown up the drug – it was too fast acting. It didn't seem to matter what he tried, eventually the drug would take him over.

It always started the same. First came the feeling of ants under his skin. Resisting the urge to scratch was difficult as his fingers fought for the privilege. He could feel his skin crawling and it made him gnash his teeth.

Then came the ache of his muscles like he'd been slammed into the ground repeatedly, and he wondered if what happened to him in the memories had physical manifestations, but there was that one memory where he'd hit the ground over and over again as he was hauled up and punched then dropped and kicked in the ribs. It had hurt when it was happening. Unlike the memory of Scotty's death, he hadn't gotten to enjoy that particular feature from the sidelines.

Soon, he could feel the edges of his mind start to blur. His eyes slipped closed. There was a bang. And when he opened them, he was standing in the hallway in his parents' house in Minnesota. The one he'd grown up in. The one that Scotty had died in front of. He reached out to touch the textured wallpaper, no longer surprised by how real everything felt. He felt tall, but he noticed his hands were younger, so not a bystander in this one, either. He touched his chest, it felt hard and unmuscled. He was a teenager.

He took a cautious step down the hall. He had no idea whether he was in a memory or a hallucination, but he did remember one horrific event that took place upstairs in his parents' house when he was fifteen. He hadn't been home at the time, so if this was that then it was as much hallucination as memory.

From the landing of the staircase he called down the stairs, "Mom?", his teenage voice cracking. But there was no answer and no sounds coming from below. He turned towards the one closed door in the hallway and took a step in that direction. It took everything he had to take that step and the next one and the next one. It felt like someone had their hands on his shoulders and was pushing him backwards. And he wanted to relent, he really did. But there was a compulsion, too, to open that closed door and to see what was behind it.

Jack knew whatever he would see would be an amalgamation of what he'd always thought and what he'd seen as an adult. He reached the door and squared himself in front of it. He took a few deep breaths and tried to prepare for what was behind the door. His mother had never really talked about it, but in his mind he'd always seen the scene one way. He wondered if his imagination would match the hallucination or if the drugs would just make it worse.

While he tried to work up the courage to reach for the door handle he thought it was strange that he knew, even as he was in the dream or hallucination what it was, and yet, he still reacted to what was happening, he couldn't not feel the emotions or the physical pain and he hated his brain for playing such games with him.

He made himself focus on this moment, tried to steel himself for whatever he was about to see. The whorls in the wood of the door caught his attention and he studied them for long moments which helped put off the inevitable. His hands felt asleep, with pins and needles, so he shook them and then he reached for the handle and turned.

He didn't see it at first, in fact, it wasn't until he could see the reflection in the mirror that he knew, for sure, what day it was. Bile rose up in the back of his throat when all he could yet see was a splatter of red up the flowered wallpaper. He tried to pull himself together, he may be in his fifteen year old body, but in his life he'd seen worse than this. He'd done worse than this.

Jack pushed the door open the rest of the way. He could see a booted foot on the floor turned at an angle that suggested complete relaxation. Even though he knew, he still asked the question. "Dad?"

No response.

He stepped around the door, his eyes closed, not yet prepared to see it in its entirety. He breathed in through his mouth and gagged on the taste of pennies. How had his mother had done this all those years ago? How she'd not lost it completely. Jack bit his lip then slowly opened his eyes.

What he saw was straight out of his teenage imagination and lacked the more salient details experience had taught him. There was blood and brain splattered against the walls, his father's body slumped over and the shotgun leaning against his chest. In ways, it was worse than it would have been, in others far worse than reality would have allowed. Teenage Jack breathed shallowly through his mouth and tried to avoid vomiting despite the overwhelming taste of death in his mouth.

The onslaught of emotion was instantaneous and as real as the day he'd come home to find the coroner's van backed up to his front door. He remembered it the way it really happened as he stood there trying not to look too hard. He remembered slipping past the truck into the house and thundering up the stairs when he caught sight of his mother's dress on the landing. He remembered her sobbing and he remembered how he pulled her into his inadequate arms. He remembered how the body was carried out on a stretcher with a white sheet over it, the white sheet already soaking up the red. He remembered the precarious angle of the body as the coroner and his assistant walked down the stairs.

And even though he could remember the way it really happened, this way, with Jack finding his father, felt as real as that ever had, surreal as its very nature.

He choked back a sob and turned his back on the sight. It might have been a memory, it might have been a body, but it was his _father_. And no amount of years distance could prepare him for the reality of seeing it. It didn't seem to matter that it wasn't real at all. His brain couldn't differentiate between fact and fiction, between real and make-believe. He felt every inch Colonel O'Neill and yet also felt young and unseasoned as he dealt with the reality of his father's choice to take his own life in such a gruesome way. In such a way that his family would have to deal with it.

Not coincidentally, they'd moved soon after the actual event, Jack and his mother, because she refused to use that bathroom and it was the only one in the house. They stayed at first with his grandmother and then moved into a small apartment in the city.

Still rooted to the spot Jack felt everything as strongly as he had as a kid, the sadness, the anger. From the hallucination he felt the nausea and the instant sort of grief that was sharp and unwieldy. He must have stood there, eyes closed and, to his surprise, leaking tears for long moments, so long that the Blood of Sokar began to release its hold on him.

The first thing Jack noticed was the lack of pennies in air. The next thing he noticed was the feeling of his bed underneath him even though he could still see the scene in front of him like it was burned on the backs of his eyelids. Slowly, the visual faded away, but the feelings didn't. Jack lay on his little bed and curled up into a ball against the assailment of the emotions – both old and real and new to the hallucination.

He remembered how much he loved his father and how shocking it had been when he'd committed suicide. As far as Jack knew his mother had never known why it had happened either. That made it worse in so many ways, because they never knew if there was something they could have done to prevent it. He remembered how his mother was never the same after that, how the warm and loving woman he'd grown up with had turned cold and bitter even to her only son. The emotions were strong and life-long and now so very close to the surface that he felt them all with a cutting clarity that downed him.

Still his mind muddled through the cotton batting that was the Blood of Sokar, hovering between real and safe and make-believe and in danger, between old memories and new. He was as stuck in that bathroom as he was on his bed. It made him feel weak and helpless which was almost worse than the grief. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and hoped that this was as bad as it was going to get. He doubted it, though.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam was shocked when the Tok'ra dialed Earth the very same day. She knew it was a possibility, but Earth was never very high on their priority list. As Sam watched the event horizon for incoming travelers, she wondered who the Tok'ra would send to speak on their behalf.

She wondered if it might be Martouf and she hoped it wouldn't be. The man's obvious interest in her made her uncomfortable, especially in the wake of her feelings for Colonel O'Neill. Because of her history with Jolinar, when she was with Martouf, feelings for another man felt like a betrayal and she just couldn't handle that particular can of worms at the moment.

She was relieved when two strangers stepped through the gate. "General Hammond," came the low, symbiote's voice from one of the men as his eyes scanned the room and settled on the General as the apparent leader, "I am Ushad and this is Amah. You have requested the assistance of the Tok'ra?"

General Hammond stepped forward to greet the men at the base of the ramp. "I have. I think this is something better discussed in the briefing room." The General led Ushad, Amah, Sam, Daniel and Teal'c into the briefing room and waited until the guests were seated to seat himself.

"I'll get right to it, gentleman," the General started, palms pressed flat onto the table, a serious look in his eye. "One of our men, whom you might be familiar with, Colonel O'Neill, has been stranded off world and he is not retrievable by gate."

Ushad and Amah exchanged glances. "And you wish us to mount a rescue mission?"

"Well..." Sam jumped in, "yes."

"Is he in any danger?" Ushad asked.

Sam looked to the General to answer that question. "Not that we are aware of," the General admitted grudgingly.

Amah answered. "You must understand that the Tok'ra are undertaking missions of our own, that we have undercover operatives that require our ability to provide immediate support. We cannot risk their lives simply to retrieve someone whose life isn't threatened."

"You would have said yes if his life was in peril?" Daniel asked as diplomatically as his nearly aghast tone would allow.

"Not necessarily," Ushad answered.

With a new edge to his voice, Daniel asked, "Then why bother asking?" Sam had to admit she was wondering the same thing.

"Doctor Jackson," the General warned and Daniel sat back in his seat with a frown.

"On which planet is he stranded?" Amah asked.

Anticipating this question, Sam had prepared a document with the gate address as well as the planet's coordinates. She slid the paper across the table to the Tok'ra.

"There is a stargate on this planet." Ushad said.

"It's inoperable following a storm. We assume both the DHD and the gate were hit by lightning as we can't dial in and the Colonel apparently can't dial out," Sam answered.

Amah peered at the paper closely, "I am not familiar with this planet's gate address but it appears to be in an area once controlled by Sokar."

"Yes," Daniel said. "We found evidence of his involvement with the planet in their temples. But it appeared he hadn't been to the planet for at least a generation before his death."

"Sokar left a lasting impression on his worlds," Ushad said.

Sam wondered about that. A lasting impression. "What does that mean?"

"It does not necessarily mean anything, Major Carter," Amah said. "But there is a possibility that the people of this planet are Sokar's followers rather than slaves who are relieved to be free from his tyranny."

"The people on the planet were perfectly nice," Daniel said.

"And there did not appear to be any cause for concern," Teal'c agreed.

"For Colonel O'Neill's sake, I hope that is true," Amah said.

"You think, because the planet was once Sokar's, that Colonel O'Neill is in danger?" General Hammond asked.

"I believe it is possible that not all is as it appeared while you were visiting the planet," Amah answered.

Sam's stomach flipped over inside her. They'd all been operating under the assumption that the Colonel was safe. "So now that you know where he is, will you help?"

"As I mentioned before, we are already overextended by our current operations. At this time, we cannot spare a ship to retrieve Colonel O'Neill." Amah said.

"But you just said-"

Ushad cut her off. "We are not unsympathetic."

"You just can't help us."

"Perhaps in the future we will be able to help you undertake a rescue mission."

General Hammond nodded. "We would appreciate the assistance."

Sam shot the General a look. Was he giving up? Just like that. Not that she really thought talking to the Tokr'a anymore than they already had would yield them a different result. If anything it would probably only upset her more as she listened to them say the Colonel may be in danger but that they wouldn't help until _maybe_ some unspecified time in the future.

"We must return to the homeworld."

"My father..." Sam said. "Will you tell him you were here?"

"We will," Ushad agreed.

General Hammond nodded and pushed himself out of his chair wearily. He led the Tok'ra to the control room while SG-1 stayed seated in the briefing room. Once they were alone Daniel looked at Teal'c first then at Sam. "It's a good thing Jack wasn't a part of that conversation. I think he'd have lost his patience with the Tok'ra."

"You mean again?" Sam asked wryly. "I'm not sure I really expected them to say no." And she really hadn't. As she'd turned it over and over in her mind, she'd smoothed the rougher edges of the Tok'ra and had convinced herself that they'd look at it as one good turn following another. She should have remembered that they were phenomenal at looking after themselves first.

"C'mon, Sam, really?"

"Wishful thinking, I know."

"Well, it wasn't a hard no," Daniel offered. "Maybe sometime in the future."

"We should try the Asgard," Sam said, suddenly sure that was the answer.

"Sam, we talked about this," Daniel said gently and she could tell by the way he was backing her down that she was sounding a little frantic.

"Major Carter," Teal'c started, "it would appear that we are... on our own... at this time."

"There's got to be something we can do," she said, and even she could hear the slight pleading tone in her voice.

"We'll get him home, Sam."

"How?"

"I don't know yet, but you'll figure something out."

And there it was. _She'd_ figure something out. It was always down to her, wasn't it? Didn't they know she didn't have it in her to do this all over again so soon? She was still exhausted from the first time. Not to mention still smarting from all the emotional fallout she'd had recently. How was she supposed to _figure something out_ when she'd already spent a week coming to the conclusion that the only way to get to that planet was to go by ship. Was she supposed to figure out how to build a damned spaceship?!

"Well, if our only option is a ship, I've got a lot of work ahead of me," she said caustically, pushing back from the table.

"I didn't mean you had to build a-" Daniel was saying but she'd already left the room.


	6. Part 1 - Chapter 5

 

He was strung up, his wrists in cuffs suspended on chains, his toes barely brushing the floor. He could feel the stuffy air all over him. A ribbon of heat lashed across his naked back as he heard the crack of a whip. It took everything in him not to cry out at the sudden pain and subsequent stinging sensation. He hadn't been prepared to be thrown into the middle of this memory, hadn't had time to steel himself. But he knew, instantly, that any noise he made would be used against him. That much was deeply ingrained in him.

The whip cracked again and another flare of pain erupted across his lower back and around his hip. He resisted the urge to turn his body away and curl in on himself as much as possible from his suspended position. The whip cracked again and again until he could feel the blood dripping down his back. His tormentors weren't happy until he bled – from _whatever_ they were doing to him.

He forced himself to relax to prepare for the next blow but it never came. He concentrated on the sounds around him and was able to locate the Iraqi man behind him, and a little to his left, breathing heavily from exertion and pleasure. The man stepped up behind Jack and Jack flinched even though he knew better. He could feel the man's breath on the back of his neck, waited to feel the fingers on his back as they trailed through the blood. Yes, there they were.

The man said something, Jack still only understood about a third of what his captors said, but it was better than a lot of the guys Jack had encountered who were also prisoners. At least he usually had _some_ idea of what was going on around him. Maybe, one day, that information would be useful to someone. He just had to hold on until _someone_ arrived.

It felt as if it had been weeks, weeks up on weeks, since he'd been taken captive by the Iraqis and his body and mind had been put through all manner of hell. He didn't even want to think about the things that had been done to him, the things that were still coming. The Jack of the here and now, who was only reliving this hell, couldn't even fathom _which_ beating this was, if he was even able to separate them out in his mind after all this time. He had no idea what was coming, but sometimes it was a beating, sometimes it was torment, sometimes it was a whip to the chest or legs or ass, sometimes it was sodomy. He shuddered while he waited, the Iraqi's breath still hot on the back of his neck.

The fingers that had trailed through the blood reached around and grasped at his waist turning him to face the torturer. The men all had the same face after all this time; brown, bearded, and dark-eyed. Without warning the man sucker punched Jack in the soft part of his abdomen to the side of his diaphragm. Jack coughed and wheezed as the pain blossomed up through his lungs and into his chest, spreading from the point of impact out and around his battered body.

Another blow came, and another. Jack forced his body to stay soft and pliant, in the end, it would hurt less. A beating it was, then. Though Jack was glad. It wasn't as bad as some of the things that could be done, but it was worse than some of the others.

He found himself at loose ends while he endured the beating. When it had actually happened he'd thought about going home to his wife and son. Now, though, with the intervention of time, he didn't have those things. It made the memory worse than the actual act. And then his brain, his sweet, sweet brain, conjured up the image of Carter. All big blue eyes and a soft, pink smile and it startled him, for a moment. Then he felt his mind float, up and away from the beating – a blow to the kidney – and right to her. Her golden hair. The slope of her shoulders, the curve of her waist.

Her eyes were worried but kind and he focused on them as one blow came, and then another, and he realized all he had to endure were these things and he could get home, take that worry out of her eyes. It became the mantra in his head as the bruises began to form even while new blows fell. _Get through it, get home, make Carter's eyes smile. Get through it, get home, make Carter's eyes smile. Get through it, get home, make Carter's eyes smile._

The blows stopped and Jack couldn't help a relieved sigh. The man spoke to him, but Jack didn't understand any word except _military_. The man walked out of sight. When he reappeared, Jack noticed that he held the whip again. This time, he would watch as the lashes were placed handily across his chest. He'd already learned not to close his eyes.

A crack, a lash placed across his collar bones. Another across the soft skin of his belly. Another cutting from one shoulder to hip. It went on and on until Jack couldn't tell exactly where each lash landed because the pain had spilled over onto all the nerve endings. The tip of the whip caught him near his naked groin and he flinched, he couldn't help it. It earned him lashes across his thighs to his knees, the whip coming near and near again the tender skin of his groin, until he learned to stand still. They were tough lessons, but he did, eventually, learn them.

The man dropped the whip and Jack could feel himself sweating. He wondered what would come next. It still wasn't enough information to tell Jack which session this was, it had happened so many, many times. The Jack who knew this was memory wanted to be pissed, to be angry, but just like at that time the pain was so intense it left no room for other emotions. His skin was on fire, his organs throbbed, all the tissues in between felt like they were tearing with each breath.

The man sneered and then was gone, leaving Jack to his own devices. He wouldn't cry, had already learned that if he was found with tear tracks on his face it would be worse. He allowed himself the release of a low moan of pain, quiet enough that he wouldn't be heard, loud enough that it was some measure of relief. He wondered how long it would be until they were back, wondered if he'd be taken down from his suspended position to allow the next beating to come from heavy black boots – the fists were easier, they hurt less, though they were more precise.

He felt himself tumble over backwards in his mind through time and other beatings, a sickening somersault of remembrances too alike to be separated. It was one moment but it was all the moments and knowing it was memory gave him no clarity, and there was no reprieve from the pain. He hung there, in silence, knowing he was far away from this place, yet present.

He waited for the edges of the memory to blur, to fade away so he would wake up in his little bed, but it didn't happen. For a very long time, it didn't happen. Long enough that the man returned and returned again before Jack ever had a chance to take a long, deep breath, outside that prison cell and yet within another.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam watched as a Tok'ra stepped through the event horizon. It had been a week since they'd turned the SGC down and so it took a moment for Sam to see past the clothing and into her father's eyes. "Dad?" she questioned, surprised to see him, happy to see him.

"Hi, Sam," he said giving her a warm hug. As he held her he said, "I hear Jack's gotten himself into a little trouble."

Sam pulled away and looked at her watch to verify the hour so she could say, "Fifteen days stranded on a planet the Tok'ra indicated might not be as friendly as we originally thought." Yes, she'd glommed on to that little nugget since that meeting and had been torturing herself with _what ifs._

"Selmak is concerned, too," Jacob said. "She's familiar with the planet, the people, and their use of some of Sokar's less-pleasant substances."

"You don't mean..."

"The Blood of Sokar," Jacob confirmed.

"Oh, God..." Sam said lowly.

"There's no guarantee that he's been given the drug, Sam," Daniel tried to soothe.

"But if he has..."

"I know," Daniel said, apparently remembering his own run-in with the Blood.

"Let's take this up to the briefing room," General Hammond suggested.

On the way up the stairs, Sam's father touched her arm to get her attention. "You look like you haven't been sleeping."

"I'm fine," she said, by rote.

"You're lying to your father now, not one of your coworkers."

"I'm not lying to anyone, I'm fine." They'd reached the briefing room then so her father had to stop questioning her. She was grateful. Because he was right, she _was_ lying to her father. She wasn't fine. She was tired and sick with worry about the things that might be happening to the colonel. And she couldn't even show the depth of it. She had to trap it down deep inside of herself.

She'd barely been home, but she did go there occasionally as it was the only place she could feel all her emotions openly. Where she could get angry or scared or cry out her frustration and it wouldn't matter. Not that she found herself driven to tears, often, but it was usually when she was overtired. Which was pretty much all the time lately.

She tried to sleep, especially now that she wasn't working 'round the clock on ways to get the colonel home. But sleep didn't come easily. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Astarte subjecting the colonel to various forms of torture. Sam wondered what kind of treatment the colonel was being subjected to. Was the abuse mental? Physical? _Sexual_? Some combination thereof? When they got the colonel back, would they be getting back the man they left behind? The colonel was a strong man, so Sam held out hope that he'd be able to withstand whatever Astarte put him through. Of course, it was all speculation, but Sam had a tough time believing everything was going to be fine after hearing the Tok'ra's concerns.

Sam took her seat at the briefing table and was startled when her father sat in the colonel's chair. It took everything she had not to tell him to move. But she knew that wouldn't go over well and would also be fairly telling. So she kept her tired mouth shut.

"To what end would O'Neill be subjected to the Blood of Sokar?" Teal'c continued their conversation from the gateroom.

"There's no telling. Though there's some intel that says the matriarch of the society is known to take slaves." Jacob said.

"We never saw any slaves," Daniel pointed out.

"We might not have if they were trying to put their best foot forward," Sam said.

"Astarte _did_ take quite an interest in Jack..." Daniel said.

"Do you think she wanted to make him a slave, Doctor Jackson?" General Hammond asked.

"Of one kind or another," Daniel muttered.

"Like hell," Sam said, drawing the attention of all the men, but she didn't care. She had other things on her mind. Would the woman really have resorted to drugging the colonel in order to... what? How would the drug relate to making him a slave? Making him remember things he'd rather not remember, or hallucinate horrible things that hadn't happened might, what? Break him down? Make it easier to turn him into a willing slave?

"I'm here to tell you I'm going to get him," Jacob said laying a hand on his daughter's shoulder.

" _You_ are?" Sam said, incredulously. Surely her father knew better than to undertake such a rescue mission alone.

"The Tok'ra were pretty clear about being unable to spare the resources," General Hammond said.

"My mission was completed early. Ushad is the one who told me about your request. It was tacit approval to take on Jack's recovery mission. So I'll go get him and bring him home."

"You'll take SG-1 with you, Jacob," General Hammond decided quickly and to Sam's great relief. If Astarte had done what they'd now speculated she'd done, Sam wanted to be the one to put the woman down.

"When can we leave?" Sam asked.

"After we've had a chance to talk to Jacob about what we might be facing, Major."

"Yes, sir," Sam said, chagrinned, because she'd been ready to gear up and go through the gate to the ship. She took a deep breath and attempted to screw her head on straight. She needed to approach this with caution, not abandon.

"Is there a plan, Jacob?" General Hammond asked as they all bellied up to the table.

"We don't know exactly where he is, what his condition is, whether or not he's easily accessible, and whether or not there are going to be forces protecting him," Jacob said. "So right now the plan is to get there and do some recon."

"We were welcome in the town before, chances are we would be again," Daniel said.

"Even if Astarte's done something to the colonel?" Sam asked.

"We won't know until we get there," Daniel conceded.

"I don't like the idea that we're walking in blind," General Hammond said.

"Neither do I," Jacob agreed, "but unless you want me to take the time to go scout it out, this is the best way. It's a two week trip to the planet."

"Two weeks?" asked Sam, aghast. She tried to school her features to not match her voice. She needed to pull it together. Ever since she'd heard that the colonel may be in danger she'd felt her tenuous grasp on her professionalism begin to slip. It was time to fully admit, if only to herself, that whether or not she was hurt or angry, her feelings for him were too strong to be drowned out.

Daniel shot her a sharp look at her outburst, but his countenance turned sympathetic almost immediately. He turned his eyes to Sam's father and asked, "Two weeks?"

"The hyperdrive on my ship is damaged," Jacob said apologetically.

"Cannot Major Carter repair the damage while we make the journey?"

"I'm afraid not, Teal'c. It's a matter of not having the proper crystals."

"Can't you just grow what you need? Or get them from off-world?" Daniel asked.

"We can grow them. But while I have tacit permission to take this mission, the Tok'ra haven't agreed to share further... resources. And between here and Astarte's planet there are no planets with gates that are considered both safe and poachable. So the trip will be a long one."

"But if Jack's in the danger you think he's in-"

Jacob dipped his head and when he looked up, it was Selmak who answered Daniel. "Doctor Jackson, while I do believe that your Colonel O'Neill could be in a compromised position, it is unlikely that he is coming to physical harm. That is not a hallmark of the society he's a captive of."

"Then what is?"

"It is likely that the Blood of Sokar is being used to break him down mentally to create a better, more willing slave."

"Mental abuse is still harmful," Daniel pointed out hotly.

"Jacob and I have permission to help," Selmak said, "but that is all."

Daniel made a frustrated sound as Sam reiterated, "So it'll take two weeks to get there, and once we're there we'll have to find and rescue the Colonel."

Selmak allowed Jacob to answer, "That's right."

Sam turned towards the General. "When can we leave?"

"As soon as Jacob is ready to take you," General Hammond assured.

"We'll go as soon as you're geared up and ready for a month long journey," he said.

"We'll need some things for the colonel," Sam said, already standing.

"You're dismissed, Major," General Hammond said with a small smile playing around his mouth.

Sam looked at him sheepishly. "Thank you, sir."

It wasn't a well planned mission, that was for sure, and it smarted leaving the colonel in Asarte's clutches for another two weeks, but it was all they had. So she squared her shoulders and strode out of the room to make the best preparations she could.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack came to slowly, fighting his way up through the muddle of the drug. When he peeled his eyes open, he found himself staring at the ceiling of his cell. His entire body ached as if what he'd just experienced had been real. He could feel the tears in his flesh and the bruising as clearly as he had when he'd been in Iraq. Cautiously, he trailed his hands down his body but found himself dressed, clothing intact, and reassured himself that it had only been a vivid recollection.

He groaned and sat up, his body tired of everything but mostly of lying down. His head felt heavy like it always did after the horse-pill pain killers that Janet would give him. He leaned back against the wall of bars that made of one side of his cell and let two bars cradle his head between them. He blinked blearily a few times to clear his vision. When he finally did he noticed, to his extreme disappointment, that nothing had changed.

He was still alone in the room of cells. But better alone than with someone else who was being tortured, he supposed. He'd been one of many before and it was a different kind of painful to watch someone else go through the agony of torment.

For the first time in his wakefulness he felt a gaping hole inside of him where the healed parts of him used to be. The memories, the hallucinations, it was all getting to be more than he could handle. He felt tender around the edges, felt skittish, felt edgy, felt the things he'd felt before he'd been put back together after each of the events he'd already lived through once or had nightmares about. Seeing Scotty's death had pissed him off, but watching Daniel and Sam get tortured while the stronger and more stalwart members of the team were shackled to a wall had been a special kind of hell.

He had even once hallucinated Sam actually being married to that megalomaniac, Hanson, and the things he might have done to her if it had ever gotten that far. Had hallucinated that he, himself, had been the one she'd run to when she needed a safe place to go, and how even he had been unable to protect her.

He'd had the part hallucination part memory of his father's death. Later he'd gotten to watch as his mother fell apart and there was nothing he could do about it. It had ripped at his heart to watch his mother fracture the way she had, and it didn't seem to help that he _knew_ it was a hallucination. It never seemed to help that he knew. Because it always seemed so real.

Like the most recent reliving of his time in Iraq. It was just one day of many that were stamped indelibly on his memory. So complete were the memories that they could be recollected in full to be lived out again under Astarte's brand of torture.

Jack took a moment to be glad that Astarte had set her sights on him rather than some other member of his team, and that he'd been the one left behind, because he wouldn't wish this treatment on anyone. And he wondered how much longer it would be before he'd be broken down enough to wish one of them were there in his place.

He felt a wave of anger wash over him. Not just for the brief moment when he realized he'd been driven to the idea of possibly wishing it was someone else in his place, but also because it simply pissed him off that he was in this position to begin with. He had anger towards himself, even. If only he'd accepted Astarte's proposal, he'd be living the good life right now. And who knows how much more of this he was going to have to endure before she considered him broken enough to retrain?

He wondered how many more memories or fears his brain had to give up and he could think of one more, just one more that would have the ability to take him down to rubble. And he hoped he wouldn't be made to last out that long. He was thankful his brain had protected him from that so far, and wondered at the strength of his own mind that he'd been spared the horrifically detailed memory of the worst event of his life.

The sound of a door opening forced his head to turn in the direction of the staircase. It was a sound he was used to, one that came regularly. It was the delivery of food and drink, enough to keep him reasonably strong and fit, but not strong enough or fit enough to fight against the drug or the women who administered it. No, he still felt as weak and wobbly as a newborn foal.

As he knew he was meant to, he pushed himself up off his bed and shakily made his way to the cell door where he took the tray from a woman who gave him a shy sort of smile. She was the same woman who came to bathe him gently with soft cloths and warm water in the moments after a drugging when he was still pliable and weak willed, when he was broken down and aching.

The bathings pissed him off, too, because they were always given at a time when he was too weak to fend off the hands that reached for the waistband of his trousers. He always felt exposed and violated, even in the floaty space between the drug and clarity. He wanted for the times when he was allowed to awaken slowly and fully clothed and dry, like he had this time. The anger was still present, whether he woke up to warm water or not.

He took the tray of food back to his bed, careful not to spill it. It was meats and cheeses – the same food he'd eaten on this planet as a free visitor. Aside from the druggings and being kept in a cell, he'd admit he was kept well – clean and fed – and he wondered, again, what Astarte had planned for him once she'd broken him down to her desired level of complacency. He hoped she'd get on with it already – he wasn't sure how much more of the memories he could take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It pains me to say this a little, but for the next little while I'll only be updating once a week on Wednesdays. I had a bout of block and you guys have almost caught up to me. As soon as I get the buffer I like back, I'll resume my twice-a-week posting schedule.


	7. Part 1 - Chapter 6

Two days into the trip to rescue Jack, Sam had taken the hyperdrive system apart and put it back together three times in hopes she'd actually be able to fix it, despite Jacob's warnings to the contrary. At least, she'd said, it gave her something to do with her hands. He understood, because two weeks on a tel'tak was a long time, especially when Daniel was around with his books and lectures.

Sam was short tempered and seemed to do her best to steer clear of the other occupants of the ship. It was, however, very difficult for her to avoid her father since he'd purposefully settled Teal'c into the pilot's seat.

"No luck, I take it," he said to her as he leaned against the doorway into the hyperdrive chamber.

"No," she said with a resigned sigh.

"Guess third time wasn't a charm."

"Dad-" she warned lowly.

He held his hands up in surrender. "I've got some other systems that could use a tune up if you're jonesing for something to do."

Sam wiped her hands on her pants more out of habit, he supposed, than out of need – there wasn't much in the way of engine oil on a Goa'uld vessel. "You know I am."

"You do seem a bit... on edge."

"I'm not on edge," she immediately denied.

"You're worried about Jack."

"Of course I am."

"Really worried."

"Look, dad, we just got him back, okay? And now he's in the clutches of some woman hellbent on making a slave out of him and who is quite probably drugging him with the Blood of Sokar to facilitate his compliance."

"We still don't know what's happening there. Just because she took a liking to him doesn't mean she had any nefarious intentions."

"How often is that our luck?" she asked caustically.

He considered her carefully, his head tilted to one side just a little. He scrutinized her so long she started to fidget under his gaze. Finally, he ventured, "Is there something going on between you and Colonel O'Neill?"

"What?! No," she said in that way she'd had since she was a child of denying something when there was some truth to it. She took an apparent calming breath then asked, "Why would you ask that?"

Rather than answer her question, he said, "You know the regulations as well as anybody, Sam."

"There's nothing going on," she persisted.

But Jacob and Selmak had had a long conversation on the subject and they both agreed that Sam's level of worry and her nervous actions spoke more about a woman who had lost a man rather than an officer who had lost a CO. And Jacob was very worried about the implications of that. He'd been made aware of Jack's sabbatical on Edora and how Sam had pushed herself to bring him home. And though he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, seeing the fire in hers while Jack was on Astarte's planet gave Jacob plenty enough information to fuel his own concerns.

When he didn't say anything, she huffed and said, "Dad, listen, I'm not sure what you've heard, but-"

"I haven't heard anything," he cut in. "But you're telling me I'm not the first one to wonder what's going on between you and Jack?"

She looked at him guiltily. He knew her well enough that she didn't even have to answer.

"Oh, Sammy, what have you done?" he asked her quietly, stepping closer to her, instantly being torn between hugging her and scolding her.

"Nothing dad, I swear." Her tone was pleading. Pleading with him to believe her.

Suddenly he did, and he had a pretty clear picture of what was going on. "How long have you had feelings for him?"

"Dad, I-"

"How long, Sam?"

She pulled herself up to her full height and set a rock-steady glare on her face. "This is none of your business."

"I care about you, it is my business."

"I'm doing my job. That's all that matters."

"But are you doing it safely, Sam? Or are your emotions clouding your judgment?"

"I've done nothing but work to get him home. Not once, but twice now. There's nothing about my performance that could be faulted."

"Except that you seem to work yourself into the ground over it."

"Which is exactly what I'd do if _anyone_ was lost off world."

He nodded slowly. "Right."

"Dad-" she said warningly.

He decided to back off for the moment. She was nothing but defensive and he wasn't going to get anything useful out of her anyway. But that didn't mean he didn't have his theories and that he wasn't going to try again. Or that he wasn't going to confront Jack about it as well, because she was skittish as a colt and maybe Jack could shine a little light on the situation.

It wasn't that Jacob objected to Sam's feelings because of Jack – he actually liked Jack. It was that Jack was her CO. That spelled nothing but possible trouble for her both personally and professionally, and he didn't want to see her have to give up any of what she'd worked so hard for.

Jacob left his daughter in the hyperdrive chamber. He'd give her a while to cool off and collect herself before setting her off on a task she could actually complete. He didn't like this situation with her feelings at all, but he had to remind himself that he hadn't intended to fall for her mother, either. Her mother who wanted nothing to do with a military man. Her mother who he'd practically had to beg to marry him. He had to remind himself that the head didn't choose who to fall for and it didn't care about things like military regulations. And, as far as he could tell, he couldn't fault his daughter for her performance. And if she was adamant that nothing had happened between her and Jack then he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt – at least until he sussed out Jack, too.

Jacob relieved Teal'c of pilot's duty for a little while as he wanted something else to concentrate on besides his daughter's apparent love life. Not that it took much concentration to fly through open space, but it took enough that he found he wasn't completely taken in by it anymore. He flew for nearly an hour before a light flickered on, reminding him that there was real work Sam could be doing. He thought perhaps she could use the distraction too. He fingered the comm button and called for her.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was a beautiful day. He'd always remember how the day looked, how it smelled, how it felt. So he knew, instantly, when he was as he was flung into the memory. He fought against it, hard, trying for the first time to pull himself out and away from what was happening. It was fruitless, he had no control.

He was jogging towards Sara, he could feel it, he was inside himself, but he couldn't stop it. He leaned down, kissed her, smiled against her lips, kissed her again. It felt so nice. He'd forgotten what it felt like to kiss his wife. He could feel the love for her, as deep and strong as it was before the separation, before the divorce. Not that he didn't still love her, he probably always would at least a little, but it felt different now.

He looked over Sara's shoulder at Charlie's school picture, smiled again, pressed his lips against her shoulder. He reached for the photographs and-

Bang!

He was instantly on alert, he knew the gunshot had come from inside the house, but his instincts had him scanning the horizon before his brain caught up and told him what his heart didn't want to know.

Sara was screaming Charlie's name as Jack took off towards the house. With every step he tried to stop, he didn't want to see it again. But his body ran forwards, towards the sound of the shot. He ran through the front door, the foyer, up the stairs, down the hall, checking each room as he passed, the guest room, the bathroom, Charlie's room, finally, his and Sara's room.

The smell of a gunshot was thick in the air but he didn't see anything, not immediately. He had to run around the bed to see Charlie lying on the floor, gun fallen out of his little hand, a hole in his face where his right eye should be. No. No no no. Nonononononono. Jack rushed to his son, didn't bother to do the things he'd been trained to do, just gathered the boy into his arms.

He lifted him off the floor, Jack could feel blood against his hand at the back of Charlie's head. He stumbled as he raced around the bed, _don't drop him_ , had to fight Sara at the bedroom door. She was rushing in as he was trying to rush out and then she was screaming and crying over her baby. Her hands flying immediately to Charlie's bloody face.

"Don't," he yelled at her, not sure why he didn't want her touch Charlie. For her own sake maybe, because he knew the boy was dead in his arms already, there was nothing that could be done, but still he thundered down the hall and down the staircase, through the foyer, out the front door, to his truck where he laid Charlie on the backseat. Sara was hot on his heels but he barely gave her time to get in the truck as he started it and threw it into reverse, she was still pulling her foot into the cab and closing her door.

He sped to the hospital, the terror gripping inside him, he knew it wasn't real, that he had already done this once before, but it didn't seem to matter, it felt like the first time, it felt like if he was faster, if he just drove faster, he would be able to save his son. Last time, last time he'd dallied over the body. He'd given Sara time to get into the backseat and laid his son in her lap. He'd sped to the hospital the same way he was doing this time, but he was slower before and maybe faster will be the key to saving Charlie's life.

At the hospital, he charged into the emergency waiting room with his son in his arms and the nurse behind the glass took one look at the boy and motioned Jack through a set of double doors that led to the triage area. A nurse met him there, tried to take Charlie from him, but Jack wouldn't relinquish him. So the nurse led Jack to a bed, Jack laid Charlie down gently. As a doctor swooped in to check Charlie's heartbeat, Jack looked down to see the blood all over his shirt and hands.

Then they were telling him it was too late. That Charlie's already dead. But he knew that. He already knew that. They're supposed to help. "Help him!" Jack screamed at the medical professionals, though he knew there was nothing they could do. They looked at him piteously. He was suddenly sure he was going to throw up. He looked around for something, the nurse seemed to know what was going on and thrust a plastic basin at him just in time for him to lose his lunch.

Sara was off to the side, crying, but he couldn't help her, couldn't pull her into his arms to comfort her. Instead he was puking and thinking about the gun. Why hadn't he locked up the gun? He knew why it had been out. There'd been two home invasions in the neighborhood in the past week. He'd had the gun out and on his bedside table, just in case. Not even in the drawer. Why couldn't he have at least put it in the drawer. Hindsight didn't give him any answers either, as he berated himself just as harshly as he had the time it had really happened.

He'd known Charlie was fascinated by guns. Had taken a toy gun from him less than a week before. He didn't want his son growing up to a life with guns in it. Not that he was ashamed of his service, he just wanted different memories for his child.

When he was done throwing up the nurse gently took the basin and a bottle of water appeared from his right. He thanked the woman who brought it to him by rote. He swished his mouth and swallowed the bitter taste, took another long drink to chase it away, but the back of his throat up into his nose burned with it and it felt a little like it was supposed to feel. Everything should hurt.

He looked at Charlie lying on the bed, a hole in his precious little face. The doctor was trying to turn him away from the carnage but he couldn't look away. That was his baby on the bed, not breathing. That was his baby on the bed that he might have well have killed himself. That was his baby on the bed who wouldn't be having any more school pictures, or birthdays, or baseball games. That was his _baby_ on the bed.

Sara was sobbing openly and he found he was too stunned, to hurt, to do anything other than stand there and stare. The pain was a gaping maw inside him that was pulling every harsh emotion into it. He felt his throat thicken and his eyes misted over, but he didn't allow the sob that was threatening. He reached blindly for Sara, still staring at Charlie as he was, but she didn't come to him. He looked over at her, tearing his eyes from the boy, and she was standing there with her face buried in her hands. He wanted to go to her then, but he was rooted to his spot by the bed, close enough that he could reach out and touch Charlie if he wanted to.

He wanted to. He wanted to touch his living, breathing boy. No, it didn't help that this was mere memory, Jack could feel the pain as fresh as the day it had happened. He reached out to touch the still warm body of his son, clasped his hand around the boy's arm. And unlike the day that it had happened, he finally cried.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam was holed up in the bunk room. After nine days on the tel'tak, the only thing positive Sam could think was that they had less than a week until they made it to the colonel. She was completely over every aspect of the ship, not the least of which was the way her father kept looking at her. Like he was studying her. Like he was trying to find the chinks in her armor. She didn't like being under such scrutiny and this was the second time when the colonel was involved that scrutiny was exactly what she was subjected to. Why couldn't her thoughts and feelings just be her own? It wasn't like she'd said or done anything inappropriate about them.

As a matter of fact, once she'd realized how she felt, she'd been damned careful. She'd been conscious of the easy flirting they'd seemed to engage in and tried very hard not to read too much into it. Even still, it had come as a painful surprise when she'd seen him with Laira. Even though she'd tried not to read into the flirting, she'd apparently built something up in her mind between them.

After that, though, it had been easy to remember that he didn't feel anything for her. And after that damnable undercover mission, it had most certainly been easy. He'd apologized, said he hadn't meant what he said, but she couldn't unhear it, or unsee that look on his face as he'd said it. Oh, he meant it, all right. She'd been a fool. But even knowing that didn't make it easy for her to turn off the feelings she had for him.

Jack O'Neill was a singular sort of man. A man she couldn't help but be attracted to. She was certain people wouldn't get the attraction or would think it was merely physical, but it was so much more than that. She liked who he was as a person. Or, at least, she thought she had. Her ultimate faith in him had most certainly been shaken by recent events.

She was staring at the ceiling, lounging on one of the bunks, when she heard the door to the room slide open.

"There you are," Daniel said.

"I haven't been hiding."

"I don't think that's true," he chided gently. "Did something happen between you and your dad? Things seem... strained."

"Everything is fine." She didn't bother to look at him.

"Okay," he drawled slowly. Clearly he didn't believe her. Perhaps she should have met his eye. "I've got books, if you want to read."

"No, thank you."

"Do you want to talk?"

She sighed. "Not really."

"Are you _sure_ everything is okay?"

"Yes, Daniel," she said a little more sharply than she'd really intended.

He huffed and sat down on one of the beds on the other side of the room. "Is this about Jack?"

"What?"

"Are you worried?"

"Of course I'm worried. Aren't you?"

"Well, yeah."

They both stayed quiet for a long moment until Daniel broke the silence. "Tell me if I'm out of line here, and Janet has already told me it's complicated, but I think you should tell Jack how you feel."

"One, you're out of line. Two, I don't feel any way except edgy because we don't know what we're walking into."

"I'm not sure if you're just lying to me or if you're lying to yourself, too."

"What do you want from me?" she pleaded quietly.

"I just want you to be happy, Sam."

"I'll be happy when we get the colonel off that planet."

"I meant in a general sense."

"I am happy. Generally."

"You haven't seemed happy in months now."

"I've been overworked. In case you hadn't noticed, I've been busy attempting to rescue a man who keeps getting himself stranded offworld."

"You're always overworked – you're the only one who knows the gate like you do. This has been different."

She thought she'd done such a good job of hiding her feelings – of hiding everything – that this conversation was both blindsiding her and very uncomfortable. But she didn't know how to make him stop without confirming any of his suspicions.

She suddenly zeroed in on something he'd said. "What did you mean that Janet told you it was complicated?"

"When I asked her why you and Jack couldn't just... you know."

" _You're_ the reason she wanted to know if... Jesus, Daniel. You need to stay out of this. What you implied to another officer in the Air Force could very well get me court-martialed."

"Well, maybe if you guys just _talked_ about it-"

She sat up and looked him square in the eye. "There's nothing to talk about. I do not have inappropriate feelings for my superior officer. Do you understand me?"

He regarded her carefully as if trying to decide whether or not to play along. Finally he nodded once and said, "Okay."

She gave him one last steely look and then lay back down.

"I understand now," he said quietly and then got up and left the room.

Sam realized, then, that she was trembling. Daniel's nose was a little too close to the scent for her comfort. Hopefully he really did understand and would just stop talking about it, period. Sam vowed to get things under control – if Daniel had figured out how she felt, then she was doing a piss-poor job of keeping it together.

It was hard enough handling her ranging feelings inside herself. But now, her father and Daniel both had picked up on it. Janet, too, though now she suspected that Janet knew by way of Daniel. That was three more people than she was comfortable with. She cared a great deal what her father thought about her and she didn't want to be that woman who fell for a superior officer, but she didn't have any control over it. She didn't want him to be disappointed in her, but what could she do besides deny, deny, deny?

Janet knew the score and held the power to change the course of Sam's career forever. Daniel did too, though she was still not sure he really understood the ramifications of Sam's feelings and what would happen if word got out.

She sighed and turned onto her side to face the wall. She didn't think she'd get any sleep, but she could try. And at least, for a while, be away from prying eyes and knowing looks.


	8. Part 1 - Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last scene of this chapter has a very mild mention of sexual assault. If you'd prefer not to read about that, you can skip that scene. You'll know to stop when you start reading about the Tel'tak landing.

Jack looked up wearily when he heard footsteps on the staircase. He didn't have the strength or will to move. Not anymore. He didn't know how long it had been since the first memory of Charlie's death, but since then that was all he'd been put through. The death of his son. Time and again. Sometimes it was exactly the way it really happened, sometimes it was slightly different. Like what if this had happened, or that? Minor changes in the series of events as if his brain was trying to work out how it might have gone down if any one thing were different.

Three women entered his cell, he merely lay on his bed waiting. Whatever fight was in him was gone. If he'd been suicidal _before,_ when he'd only had to live through the vividness once, then whatever he was now was uncharted. He felt hands on his chest, holding him down against the bed as if he were going to put up a fight. Willingly, even, he opened his mouth to accept the Blood of Sokar, knowing that if he did not, they'd merely force it on him and in his weakened state, that was almost worse than the memories.

As the liquid poured into his mouth, he swallowed reflexively. He allowed his eyes to slip closed and he felt himself begin to float away before the small, warm hands had even left his chest. It felt a little like going through the stargate, though warm where the demolecularization was cold. He still felt pulled apart then knitted back together on the other side.

He waited before opening his eyes, wondering if this was the time he'd find himself somewhere other than his and Sara's front yard. Slowly, he opened his eyes and was immediately disheartened to feel buoyancy in his step.

He jogged over to Sara, he leaned down, kissed her, smiled against her lips, kissed her again. It felt so nice. It felt so nice every time. It was strange to know what was coming and not be able to stop it, each and every time.

He looked over Sara's shoulder at Charlie's school picture, smiled again, pressed his lips against her shoulder. He reached for the photographs and-

Sara put the pictures in his hand with a smile. Wait a minute, that was wrong. He frowned in confusion.

"What?" she asked him.

He shook his head at her and waited, tensed, for the bang that would set the whole scenario off, but it never came. He handed the pictures back to Sara and took off towards the house. Sara was behind him, calling out his name but he didn't stop, he didn't explain, he just had to get to his son. Maybe, maybe this time, he could save Charlie.

He ran through the front door, the foyer, up the stairs, down the hall, checking each room as he passed, the guest room, the bathroom, Charlie's room, finally, his and Sara's room. There stood Charlie on the other side of the bed, holding the gun, pointed right as his face. Jack raced around the bed and startled Charlie who tightened his grip on the gun, his little thumb hooked over the trigger. Jack reached for the boy, but Charlie jerked back, sure he was in trouble and not wanting to be touched.

Jack's hands fell to Charlie's and then, with Jack's hands around the gun, with the pressure of his hands on Charlie's, the gun... it went off.

Jack was close enough that blood splattered onto his shirt. He screamed Charlie's name, caught the body on the way down. Could actually feel as the life drained out of his son as he swept him up into his arms and raced out of the room and down the hall. He ran into Sara on the stairs. She halted his forward progress, hands flying immediately to Charlie's bloody face.

He shouldered her out of the way and she was hot on his heels all the way to the truck. She climbed into the backseat and reached for her baby. Jack slid Charlie gently into her lap.

On the drive to the hospital he was in a cold sweat. That was the first time he'd been holding the gun when it went off. It was the first time he could arguably say he shot his own son. He felt bile rise up the back of his throat, thought he was going to have to pull over to throw up, but he swallowed it back down.

He swung his big truck into the circular drive in front of the emergency room and hurriedly scooped his son off his wife's lap and then took off at a run for the sliding doors that led into the hospital. From that point on it looked the same as it always did, the nurse waved them through to triage, the triage nurse tried to take Charlie, Jack carried the boy to a bed, the doctor checked for a pulse, his son was dead.

But this time, when he threw up, it was because of the knowledge that he'd shot his own son. He'd had his hands on the gun when it went off. His larger, stronger hands had forced Charlie's down on the trigger and had caused the bullet to rip through his son's face and into his brain.

When he thought he was done throwing up, his body showed him he had more to give. Sara was off to the side, crying. He was glad she hadn't seen what had happened or she'd be railing at him. But then he thought of the moment when he'd have to tell her what happened, in detail because she was a detail person, and how she'd unleash on him then. Because he'd killed their son. Their precious baby boy.

When it was all over, after the medical professionals had shepherded them out of the room, after social services had done their thing, after the police had been attended to, he lived it again and again, always the same, always being the one to shoot his son.

And then, when his brain was apparently on overload. It was just him standing in front of his team and his family, the people who meant the most to him, with him putting a bullet in between each one's eyes. Teal'c, Daniel, Sara, Carter, Charlie. Teal'c, Daniel, Sara, Carter, Charlie. He watched as the blood splattered against the wall behind each head but he couldn't seem to stop it. One shot after the other. Teal'c, Daniel, Sara, Carter, Charlie.

As Jack began to drift up out of the dreamstate the Blood of Sokar put him in, he felt himself retch with the overwhelming feelings of what he'd been doing inside his mind. He managed to roll over just in time to vomit over the edge of his bed. Oh, his carers weren't going to like that, he thought as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He wished he was in control of his own water supply because he could sure use a glass right now.

He flopped back onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes, even the dim lights of the room too much for his sensitive head to manage. He thought he'd finally cracked up, his brain showing him exactly what he did to everyone who mattered to him. He'd already succeeded in killing Charlie. It was only a matter of time until he succeeded with everyone else. He was just as likely to get his team killed as he was to keep them safe and Sara... well, one day the bitterness of what had happened to their son would eat her alive and that would be his fault, too.

He laid there for what must have been hours, too tired, too beaten to move, the foul stench of his sick clogging up his nose and burning the back of his throat.

It was then that Astarte swept into the room. He hadn't seen her since he couldn't remember when. Behind her were the girls that tended to him. He rolled over and pushed himself into a standing position.

"It stinks of your mind down here," Astarte said with a scowl on her face. "Are you ready to admit you are worthless without my benevolence?"

He hadn't realized that was the lesson he was supposed to be learning, but he would admit to feeling worthless. He couldn't stop any of it from happening, couldn't stop his mind from conjuring up the worst it had to offer, couldn't stop the weakness. He met her eyes, nodded. If it meant he didn't have to live through any of it anymore, he was willing to do whatever she wanted. He just couldn't kill his son again, couldn't kill his team, couldn't stand one more beating, just couldn't do it anymore.

"Good. Then it is time you were removed to my service." She turned towards the girls and gestured to his cell. "Clean him up. I do not want him like this."

The girls murmured their assent and stepped around Astarte to open his cell. Two of them took his hands and led him gently out of the cell. When his bare feet hit the plush carpet outside the cell, his toes grabbed onto the soft, silky pile. They led him across the room and to the steps. He looked at them dubiously, uncertain as to whether or not he had the strength to climb them. But the girls helped him, slowly, one foot after the other, he hauled his body up the staircase.

They led him to a gilded bathroom. One of the girls peeled his shirt over his head while the other tugged the loose pants down his legs. He felt more exposed in the bright lights of the bathroom than he ever had in his cell but when he reached to cover himself he was admonished with a shake of one pretty head. His gaze bounced around the room until it stopped on Astarte. She stood in a corner watching. Apparently sizing up her newest acquisition.

Suddenly, as if he'd forgotten, his planned usage hit him like a ton of bricks. Even if he'd felt inclined to harden for _use_ , he knew his body was too weak to perform in the ways she must expect. In his mind he came up with one scathing retort after another but the words just wouldn't come out of his mouth.

Eventually, the third woman reappeared with a glass of a milky yellow substance. She waited until the two women who had undressed him had led him to and helped him sink into a warm tub of water. The third woman handed him the glass. "Drink," she implored him.

He looked at her dubiously. The last things she given him to drink had sent him spiraling down into the abyss that was his memory. But she smiled at him reassuringly. It was then he decided he didn't care what the drink did. If it was more of the same then he could simply sink down into the tub and drown with it for all he was concerned. So, he sipped.

It tasted like milk and honey.

And almost instantly his head began to clear. He didn't feel as weak as he'd felt before. But, he noticed, his state of mind didn't improve. He still felt beaten. The drink might be the antidote to the Blood of Sokar but it failed where the Blood succeeded – he was, he knew, a shadow of the man who had been incarcerated. But he couldn't seem to care. He was death to the people he loved and he might as well be dead but for the pleasure Astarte would take from him. And he wondered if that would be enough, if the others found it to be enough.

When he'd drank his fill and when the four small hands were done bathing him, he was dried and dressed then led to an ornate bedroom. He knew instantly it wasn't his and knew exactly what he'd been brought for. The milk and honey drink that made him feel stronger suddenly made much sense.

Astarte sat in a chair in the corner. The women who had led him into the room backed out reverently.

"Now," Astarte said in a voice that brooked no argument, "you may undress."

Jack sighed internally. This was it. This is what he'd been broken for. He reached for the ties that held his pants up around his hips and pulled.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam stood on the flight deck shifting her weight antsily from one foot to the other as her father landed the Tel'tak near the stargate. "We should look around the gate to see if he's made camp," she said authoritatively as her father rose out of the pilot's seat.

"There aren't any good places to make camp," Daniel reminded her. "At least, not that we saw when we were here."

"We weren't exactly looking for places either," she snapped.

She watched as Daniel and her father exchanged glances and she took a deep, calming breath in an attempt to rein in her emotions.

"We'll take a look," her father said reassuringly.

"I do not believe O'Neill would have sought shelter near the gate," Teal'c said. "The town is near enough. He would have returned."

Daniel grabbed the big man's arm and attempted to haul him towards the door while whispering something that Sam couldn't overhear. Just as well, she figured. She probably wouldn't have wanted to hear what, exactly, Daniel had to say about her short temper.

Two weeks on the Tel'tak hadn't mellowed her out any. If anything, she'd grown more and more on edge the longer they were in space. It didn't help that her father continued to try to suss her out. It concerned her that she was unable to conceal her feelings. It made her feel weak and childish. So she overcompensated by attempting to be a strong, hardened leader. She hoped it made it appear that she was taking the colonel's disappearance hard in a professional sense rather than a personal one. But if the looks she was catching between her father and the remaining members of her team were to be believed then she wasn't doing a very good job.

The foursome exited the tel'tak and each took a quadrant around the stargate to check to see if the colonel had made a camp. Sam didn't believe he'd be hiding so close to the gate, as Teal'c had pointed out the city wasn't far and they'd had no reason to believe there was anything bad about the city. He'd have gone back. But she had to check. When after an hour it became clear that their search was going to be fruitless, they all convened back at the stargate.

"We'll hike into town, he must be there."

"I agree, Major Carter," Teal'c said. Though he'd participated in the search for the colonel near the stargate it had been evident the entire time that he'd thought the exercise to be a waste of time. He did, however, exactly as he was ordered without saying another word about it. But she could tell by the look fixed on his face that he'd been skeptical.

Sam wasn't really in the mood to talk so she was pleased when they set off on the four hour journey silently. It lasted almost two hours. Her father caught up to her and said, "We should talk about what's going to happen when we get there. We should have talked about it on the tel'tak." She could hear the censure in his voice. He'd tried to talk to her about it but she was having a tough time hearing what it was he was saying.

"What are the chances everything is fine and he's just biding his time in town?"

"Not bad," Daniel said from behind her, "but knowing what we know now, I'd say it's probably more likely that he's been compromised and drafted into Astarte's service."

"Astarte was... interested... in O'Neill," Teal'c said, obviously choosing a roundabout word for in deference to Sam.

"We'll have to assume he's been drugged and will be unable to make the trip back to the tel'tak without assistance."

"I will assist O'Neill."

"Thanks, Teal'c," Sam said sincerely. She hadn't actually thought about how they were going to get him out if he was drugged. "Do you think they'd still be giving him the Blood of Sokar after a month?"

"It depends on what it was being used for," Daniel said. "If the purpose of the drug was to alter his state of mind to make him susceptible to reprogramming as a slave then it's possible that he would have been given the drug for some time. It would probably take a while to break a man like Jack," he said thoughtfully.

The thought of the colonel being broken at all made her stomach turn. She'd been wondering for the past two weeks exactly what man they'd be bringing home, whether or not he'd be recognizable. But she'd always assumed, in the back of her mind, that the colonel would be stronger than whatever they threw at him. But she considered some of the memories he would have had to relive and they were awful. And those were just the ones she knew about. What about the things he'd merely alluded to over the past few years?

"Sokar had more than one substance at his disposal," her father told them. "There were drugs that counteracted the Blood of Sokar, others that made minds pliable. There's any number of things that Jack could have been given. He might be able to walk out under his own steam."

"The question is, will he want to?" Daniel asked.

"Why wouldn't he want to come home?" Sam asked.

"In a month he could have been brainwashed," her father supplied.

"This just keeps getting better and better," she muttered.

"We have to hope for the best," Daniel said.

"We have to prepare for the worse," she countered.

"I have to say, I agree with Sam."

"As do I, Jacob Carter."

Sam sighed and trudged ahead, ready to be by herself for a while, alone with her thoughts. She began to formulate her plan.

By the time they reached the city they were all hot, sweaty and tired, but there was no time to rest, no time to take advantage of the hospitality that was immediately offered when the townspeople recognized the rest of SG-1. As a matter of fact, they didn't even make it inside the dining hall before Sam said to the woman authoritatively, "We're looking for Colonel O'Neill."

The young woman looked suddenly nervous and that made the back of Sam's neck tingle with awareness. "He is with Astarte." Sam was instantly both worried and irritated. Chances were the woman had done something to him, but suppose she hadn't and he'd merely succumbed to her obvious interest?

"Where can we find them?"

"Astarte is not to be disturbed right now."

"I'm afraid I have to insist," Sam said, politely but firmly.

"Wait here," the woman said, then hurried off in the direction of a large, ornate house that SG-1 hadn't been invited into during the duration of their stay. They'd all assumed it was Astarte's home and now that theory had been confirmed.

The young woman knocked and then disappeared inside the house for long minutes.

"What do you want to bet that neither Astarte nor Jack are coming out of that house?" Jacob asked quietly.

"Then we're going in," Sam reassured them, reminding them of the plan she'd outlined for them on their walk from the stargate. "If the colonel hasn't been compromised, he'll come to us immediately. If he doesn't, we'll know that we have to extract him."

Sam looked at her comrades as her father squared his shoulders, Daniel took a deep breath, and Teal'c tightened his grip on his staff weapon. Sam internally prepared herself for battle, she hoped it wouldn't come to that, but she was ready if it did. She clutched her P-90 a little closer.

After many minutes the young woman came back out of the house with an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry, but Astarte will not be disturbed."

"You've said that already," Sam reminded the girl, "but it's important that we speak with Colonel O'Neill."

"He is... unavailable."

"Oh like h-" Sam started.

But Daniel cut her off and diplomatically asked, "Where is he?"

"He is with Astarte."

"And..." he led.

"They are..." the girl trailed off, clearly uncomfortable saying exactly what they were doing.

That reluctance made Sam's stomach drop. Without any further thought for diplomacy, she stepped around the young woman and made off towards the house. SG-1 and her father hurried to keep up.

"But, you can't!" the girl called out.

Sam didn't care. She was preparing herself, mentally, to shoot herself into the building if it was locked, but she found the handle turned easily when she approached the front door. She pushed through the door and found herself in a foyer that was well appointed and surprisingly free of people. Apparently they didn't believe SG-1 would be so bold as to walk right through the front door.

"Teal'c, you and Daniel check this floor, dad and I will take the second floor," she nodded her head at the stairs.

Sam and her father mounted the stairs. As she did she heard the sound of a zat blast and knew Teal'c and Daniel had encountered at least one person.

On the landing of the second floor Sam and her father were faced with having to choose a direction: left or right. Sam looked at her father; he merely shrugged. "Left," she said barely above a whisper and they headed off down the hall. She was faced with one closed door after another and she wondered what she might encounter behind one of those doors. A colonel who was more than a little peeved to be interrupted? Or a colonel who needed rescuing?

They checked each door as they made their way down the long hallway, but the rooms were empty, one after the other. Sam glanced down to the end of the hall and focused on the door there. Somehow, she just knew that she'd find the colonel behind that door. But, she dutifully continued to check each door along the way.

Finally they made it to the last door. Sam exchanged a glance with her father and they both readied their zat guns. Sam turned the knob and swung the door open slowly and quietly. The first thing she saw was the colonel lying in the bed. The second thing she noticed was the woman sat astride him. It took her brain a few moments to realize what she was seeing. Her eyes flickered back to the colonel's face. It looked determined, but not happy. And that was all she needed to know. She thumbed her comm unit twice, a signal for Teal'c and Daniel to come upstairs and find her, she had a feeling she was going to need Teal'c sooner rather than later.

Sam took one step into the room which drew the colonel's attention. She watched as his eyes widened in recognition and then shuttered into something cool and detached. She tried not to let that hurt, but she wasn't entirely successful. He did not, however, give her position away to the woman above him. From her new vantage point, Sam was able to confirm that it was Astarte he was in bed with. And he didn't seem all that happy about it.

Rage took over her. She consciously kept her eyes off her father as she raised her zat. The colonel never broke his gaze from her. Sam took aim. The colonel's hands shifted to grasp Astarte's sides over her ribs. Sam fired. Astarte's body jerked in the blue light that wrapped around her and the colonel eased her down and off to the side so she lay in the bed.

Sam tried not to notice how that left him exposed to her gaze, but it was a hard sight not to see – even if it was in the wake of him being taken advantage of. She felt a bolt of awareness shoot through her and she immediately berated herself for thinking anything about him while he was so vulnerable.

Behind her, she heard Teal'c enter the room. She turned her back on the sight of the naked colonel in the bed. "Get him dressed and let's get him out of here," Sam ordered quietly. "We'll zat anyone who gets in our way."

Daniel had already moved around the room to locate clothing for the colonel and he spoke up. "We already took care of three downstairs."

"And we haven't run into anyone else up here," her father told the other men.

"Jack," Daniel said, "can you get up?"

There was a moment of hesitation before the colonel's scratchy voice said, "Yeah. Give me some pants." There was a rustling behind her and soon enough he'd cleared his throat, the universal signal telling her it was safe to turn around. Her eyes flickered over his body, he looked no worse for the wear, though it was obvious in the thin pants he wore that his body and his mind were on different wavelengths as his body was still prepared for Astarte. _It must be a drug_ , she thought.

Her eyes met his. His eyes were small and empty, he seemed to look through her more than at her.

"We're going to get you out of here, Jack." Daniel said, putting a hand on the older man's shoulder.

"You don't want to take me with you."

"Yes, we do," Daniel countered.

"This is all I'm good for now," the colonel objected.

"That's not true, sir. And we've got to get out of here. Now."

"Astarte... she wanted me to be her... I didn't ask her to..." the colonel couldn't seem to finish a thought.

Sam's stomach turned as she realized that what had been happening there had been nothing more than rape. She was blinded by rage again. As the colonel stepped towards the door he opened a direct line of sight between Sam and Astarte. The woman was still out cold. With barely a moment's hesitation, Sam raised her zat once again and fired off one shot. She watched as Astarte's body was enveloped once more by the blue light. And this time, when the light dissipated, Astarte was no longer breathing.

She shot a glance at the colonel. He looked between her and Astarte. It was clear he wasn't sure how to feel about the death of his captor. She thought it was probably true that between the drugs and whatever had been done to him, he wasn't sure about anything.

"We're taking you home, sir."

"Can you make the walk to the stargate, Jack?" her father asked.

It took him a moment, but he finally nodded. "How long has it been?"

"A month," Daniel said after it became clear that Sam wasn't going to answer the question.

"Just a month?"

Her heart broke a little at the anguish in his voice and she wondered what, exactly, had been done to him. "You're going home now," she reiterated.

"Right," he said, sounding less than enthusiastic. But he turned and followed Teal'c and Daniel out of the bedroom.

Sam watched his bare back as he walked down the long hall, her feet frozen to the floor in the bedroom. "We'll get him home. He'll be fine," her father tried to reassure her.

From the hollow look in the colonel's usually expressive eyes, Sam was afraid that wasn't true at all.


	9. Part 2 - Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the last scene of the previous chapter, you missed Jack's rescue. Suffice it to say, Sam and company were able to boost him from Astarte's clutches, and Sam gave Astarte the lethal zat blast.
> 
> And yeah, I'm updating a half a day early just because I feel like it. :)

Getting out of town was surprisingly easy considering Sam had killed their leader. Because there was no clear succession of power, the powers that be were far more concerned with what happened next than they were with what to do with the woman who had set the current events into motion. Their justice system seemed almost non-existent, to the point where Sam wondered how they dealt with internal affairs. Truthfully, the other women didn't seem to be too upset that Astarte was dead. And so, while the upheaval was still in progress, Sam, her team, and her father, hotfooted it out of town. Sam spent the first five klicks, though, looking over her shoulder and she pressed the group forward with speed that the colonel didn't really have in him.

Halfway back to the tel'tak Sam was becoming convinced that the colonel wasn't going to make it. He was trudging, his eyes on the ground right in front of him, silent. Daniel had tried to engage him in conversation several times, but the colonel's answers were perfunctory, at best. Eventually, Daniel had shot her a questioning look and a shrug so she looked pointedly at the colonel and shook her head. Daniel stopped trying at that point. Sam thought the colonel appeared a little less downtrodden once the attempts at conversation stopped. But that could have been wishful thinking.

She kept one eye on him all the way back and noticed that, when they boarded, he flicked his eyes once over the bridge to watch her father settle into the pilot's seat, then he made his way out of the room. She didn't follow him. She didn't presume to know where he went, but she assumed he wanted – no, _needed –_ some time alone. Daniel, on the other hand, didn't seem to assume the same thing. When he noticed the colonel had wandered off, he, too, drifted off into the bowels of the ship. She wondered if the colonel would allow himself to be found.

With nothing left to do and a feeling of being at loose ends after having found the colonel but having found a man who didn't much resemble the man she'd come to know, she settled into the seat next to her father's and watched as the ship rose up, up through the atmosphere and into space. They sat quietly for a long time, her father casting furtive glances in her direction until, finally, she said, "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," he said immediately.

"Yes, I do. There was no telling what we were walking into. And you offered to do it without hesitation."

Her father shrugged self-consciously. "It's Jack."

"Hmm," she said, and nodded because it was, but it wasn't. Not anymore. She wondered what, exactly, had been done to him. Wondered if what happened to him on the planet left him with deeper issues that would take professional help to straighten out. _Oh_ , she thought, _he'd love that._ She supposed, being in command of the mission and all, that she should try to talk to him, assess his state of mind, but she found herself wary of intruding into his space. Of course, Daniel still hadn't returned, so it was likely that the two men were together wherever they were and perhaps the colonel would like a break from the loquacious doctor.

A half an hour later, while she was still trying to talk herself into going to check on him, Daniel reappeared. "He's asleep."

"Did he say anything?" she asked.

"Nothing," Daniel said with a sigh and leaned against a wall.

"All that time and he said nothing?"

"Not a word. Not even _get out_. Though it was pretty clear he wanted me to."

Sam thought it figured that Daniel could tell he wasn't wanted but would stick around anyway. He was persistent when someone he cared about was hurting and because he didn't need it, he didn't understand the need for space.

Sam thought about the colonel, stretched out on one of the bunks in the bunk room, feigning sleep so Daniel would leave him alone. The idea of him alone there, it called to her, _he_ called to her. But she knew her presence would be unwelcome and, as much as she didn't want to make the situation about her, well, her heart couldn't take it. She couldn't be an albatross for him again. It was bad enough the way he'd pushed her away after Edora, but to push again so soon after would be more than she thought she could take. And she knew he'd have little choice but to do just that. So she avoided putting either one of them in that position.

But eventually, it was time for her to get some rest, too. Daniel had long since gone to bed and Teal'c was off somewhere kel'no'reeming. Her father was looking zen staring out at the vastness of space.

"You should go catch some shut eye," he said just moments after she realized the same.

In a fit of honesty she wouldn't have pegged herself for, not with her father, anyway, she said, "Do you think I should go sleep in there? After what was done to him? Maybe it would be better if I..."

"Sam, Jack might be in a bad place right now, but he knows you'd never hurt him. He didn't look at you like you were a threat, not once."

He was right. The colonel hadn't looked at her like she was a threat. He'd barely looked at her at all after meeting her eye while he was inside another woman. Because it was rape, it hurt differently. She hurt for him, not for herself. She was upset about finding him in bed with Astarte, but not because it trampled on her fragile feelings but because of what it meant for him. As a matter of fact, she found it very simple, now, to separate Edora from the undercover mission from Astarte. Suddenly she had a clarity she hadn't possessed before. None of it was about her – not that _that_ was news. She'd never thought he felt for her the way she felt for him. But the way it hit home made her feel bad for being upset with him.

"Go to bed, Sam."

She sighed. She felt as if she could go in there now. She wouldn't disturb him. She'd take the bunk furthest away from him so he wouldn't have to deal with her being close if that really was going to be an issue for him. And she'd sleep. She was exhausted. It had been a long, stressful day.

"Night, dad," she said, pushing herself up out of the copilot's seat and touching his shoulder on the way by.

"Night, sweetheart."

She ambled to the bunk room, not in a hurry, as tired as she was. From outside she wondered one more time if she oughtn't bunk down somewhere else for the night, but where would she go? She squared her shoulders and walked into the room. The soft glow of the ship's lighting bathed the room in amber. She could make out Daniel in the bunk at the foot of the colonel's. Of course, he'd want to be close. _Just in case_. Sam crept by the men, her boots sounding heavy on the floor. She watched their faces as she passed hoping the sound of her steps didn't rouse them. Neither man moved.

She climbed into the bunk furthest from them, as she'd thought she would, but found herself staring at the ceiling, one arm flung over her head. Occasionally she'd hear Daniel's distinctive snore. She thought about the two week trip home and how long the trip was going to feel if the colonel stayed isolated. She was so used to his inanity, to his candor, to the way he'd play up, that having him around and holed up would feel off and wrong and, truly, depressing. She turned it over and over in her head, how it would feel if he'd talk to her, if he didn't, if he associated her with trouble, or with safety. She thought, incongruously, of one of his hugs and wondered if, as tactile as he was, if simple touch would be a comfort to him or if he'd find it unpalatable after what happened to him.

Her brain turned it all over and over again, one scenario after another of going to him or staying away from him. After a while, she let the rhythmic quality of Daniel's snores to lull her to sleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He stayed holed up in the bunk room the better part of three days. Mostly, he slept the deep and thankfully dreamless sleep of the truly weary. Occasionally he'd lie awake and stare at the ceiling, recounting what he'd been made to relive again and again, rehashing the things he'd felt, revisiting the familiar tightening in his stomach that told him that the memories were far too real. Like clockwork, Daniel brought him MREs. Jack picked out bits and pieces to eat, not up to a full a meal at any given point. He'd venture out of the bunk room long enough to use the facilities, to wash up, but then he'd return to his chosen bunk, to be alone.

Save for the nights when Daniel and Carter both would trickle in, Daniel first, Carter much, much later, and take their places. He noticed Carter stayed far away. She hadn't said much to him, but he feigned sleep when she was around – when Daniel was around mostly, too – because he wasn't really up to talking, not to anyone.

By the fourth day, though, he realized that he was going to go stir crazy if he stayed in that bunk room with no one but himself for company for the entire trip home. He'd learned from Daniel that it was going to take two weeks to get back to Earth and Jack wasn't exactly known for his patience. He ventured out of the bunk room and onto the bridge where he found, unsurprisingly, everyone.

"Hey," he said, his voice rough from disuse.

Carter whirled around, unsteady on her feet, clearly surprised to see him. Daniel looked up from his seated position on the floor, his finger holding his place in a book. Jacob and Teal'c each turned from one of the pilot's seats. Jack felt small under the scrutiny of four pairs of eyes.

"You're up," Carter said, sounding unsure. He bit back a smart retort but it must have shown on his face because she next asked him, "Did you need something?"

"To not be staring at the same four walls." His voice held and acerbic edge.

Carter visibly bit the inside of her cheek at his tone and he felt bad. He stopped to really look at her for a moment. She looked as tired as he felt. He wondered what was eating her, why she wasn't sleeping, if it had anything to do with him. He felt a flash of something deep inside that felt good when he thought that maybe she had worked herself up over him.

She moved just right and the gold of her hair caught the light and for a moment he felt lit up in a way he hadn't in maybe months and months. Then, with a suddenness that surprised him, he shuttered himself off from her. How dare she make him feel like there was light again? How dare he allow himself to feel that way? He felt his face harden and he suddenly didn't feel bad at all for making her feel uncertain around him.

His eyes flitted to Jacob's and he saw the older man appraising him. He felt like Jacob could see all the things going on his mind because the man was giving him a hard look and glancing between him and Carter in a way that made Jack wonder what the man was thinking.

"Why don't you take a walk, Jack?" Daniel asked, diplomatically, his gaze, too, drifting between Jack and a visibly upset Carter.

"Trying to get rid of me already?" Jack spit. He didn't know where the anger was coming from, really, and he couldn't seem to help the things that were coming out of his mouth.

"You just don't seem to want to be out here very much," Daniel pointed out.

"How much longer until we're home?"

"Approximately ten days," Teal'c said.

"Ten days," Jack muttered to himself. What the hell was he supposed to do, alone with his thoughts, for ten fucking days?

"Are you hungry?" Daniel asked.

"What are you? My nursemaid?"

"Just asking..." Daniel said and pushed his glasses up his nose.

Jack turned his eyes back to Carter and noticed how she was staring at the patch of floor right in front of the toes of her boots. "Whatsa matter, Carter? You haven't got any bright ideas about how I should be spending my time?" He knew he was only goading her because he was mad at her for having hair that made him feel alive.

"No, sir," she said softly, yet strongly, and he had to admit to himself he was a little proud of her for not being completely snowed under by his bad attitude.

"Teal'c?"

"I believe you would be better off alone, O'Neill."

Jack nodded. The Jaffa was probably right. "I think I'll go for a walk."

"You do that, Jack." Jacob said and turned back towards the view of space, effectively dismissing him. Jack got the feeling Jacob wasn't pleased with his attitude. Well... tough.

Jack turned on his heels and wandered in the opposite direction from the bunk room. There wasn't far to wander on the small ship, but he could at least see some different sights, could spend some time in his own unpleasant company.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam took deep, calming breaths. The encounter with him made her want to keep her distance. It was clear he didn't want to be around anyone in general and it seemed he had a specific acidity for her if that look he'd shot her was anything to go by. She wasn't even sure what she had done. She hadn't said anything preceding the hardening of his eyes besides asking him if he needed anything, and that usually didn't prompt a bad response.

Then, she reasoned, she probably wouldn't have had to do anything specific. He had a right to be in whatever sort of foul mood he wanted to be in. Sure, they had no clue what, specifically, he'd been through, but they knew it ended in rape and that was enough to allow him to process his feelings in whatever way he saw fit. And if it meant she needed to buck up and allow him to spew at her for a while, well, then, that's what she would do. It didn't matter if it hurt.

She put on her resolve face and discovered that she was under the watchful gazes of both Daniel and her father. Figured. Without explaining herself to either one of them, she turned and stalked off in the same direction the colonel had gone in. It wasn't that she was looking for him, exactly, or that she wanted to talk to him, or that she thought he needed to talk. She didn't even think she was necessarily the best face for him to be seeing at the moment, being that she was the only female person on the ship. But she didn't wander off intent to avoid him, either. If she ran into him, she figured, she'd deal with it.

She avoided the bunk room, purposely, thinking perhaps that he would have retreated to the quiet there despite having said he was going to take a walk. But it wasn't a large ship and she knew, if he was walking, it was only a matter of time before... she turned a corner, and there he was. He was standing, staring at a wall of golden glyphs.

He must have caught her movement out of the corner of his eye because he visibly stiffened. "What do you want, Carter?"

"I didn't come to talk."

For long moments he didn't say anything, then he braced a hand against the wall and leaned heavily against it. "Then what did you come for?"

"I don't know. I think I was just walking, too."

"Not too far to go on this ship," he mused warily.

He seemed less caustic when it was just the two of them and she wondered how much of his bad attitude was feeling hemmed in by a group of people and how much was her specifically. "I know you probably just want your space..."

"Yeah."

"But it's going to be hard to give it to you."

"It might help if you didn't follow me when I walked away." His words stung, but he hadn't said them unkindly. If anything, there was some measure of amusement in his voice.

She blushed. She couldn't help it. "I think I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm as okay as I'm gonna be. Okay?"

She nodded slowly even though he wasn't really looking at her to see the gesture. She started to offer, "If you want to talk about-"

"I don't," he cut her off abruptly.

She'd known that was coming. She wouldn't have wanted to talk about it either. But, "You're going to have to talk about it sometime."

"That time isn't right now, Major," he broke out her rank to prove that she was walking on ground she didn't really have a right to.

"Yes, sir." It was good to have the reminder of who he was. She'd spent the past month with the built up version of him, the version of him that was all her feelings and the built up little moments between them, in her head. Having the guy who was just her CO stand in front of her and call her _major_ was a shocking bucket of cold water that her system really needed.

She tucked all her tender feelings down deep inside herself and gave herself a stern reminder that what she felt for him was as one-sided as it was inappropriate. She'd done her job, and she'd gotten him home, almost. Now it was time to let the other guys do their work. She'd be back in the lineup when it was time to go back out through the stargate. Everything that happened between now and then wasn't any of her business.

Except... he might be her CO, and she might have developed inappropriate feelings for him, but before Edora, before the undercover mission, she'd have said they were friends of sorts. And when friends were hurting, you helped them out. You didn't leave them to hurt alone. She desperately wondered what had happened to him on that planet. He seemed, fine, except... not. The sleep gave him away. He'd never been a big sleeper. She wondered if he'd been sleep deprived on the planet. Or, if he'd been given Sokar's blood, if he'd just been desperate for a dreamless sleep.

She wondered what he'd been made to recall. She wondered what other substances might have been used on him. She wondered how long he'd been used the way they'd found him. But instead of asking him anymore questions, she looked at the way he was still braced against the wall and shook her head.

"I'll leave you alone, sir."

He took a couple long, slow, deep breaths. "Thanks, Carter."

She turned, ready to leave him to his own devices, despite the heavy feeling it gave her inside.

"Hey Carter?"

She stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder.

"I'm glad you guys showed up when you did."

Her heart broke a little because they hadn't shown up in time to save him from at least one indignity. But she could, she thought, appreciate the sentiment, "Me too."

As she walked off, though, it felt like an old thank you that she'd never really gotten, and it lightened her step.


	10. Part 2 - Chapter 9

Jack's attitude got worse at the days wore on, though Jacob couldn't really blame the man. And, to his credit, he largely tried to stay to himself. Though, Jacob wasn't sure that was the best course of action. He very carefully, though surreptitiously, watched the way Sam seemed to orbit Jack. She spoke to him in hushed tones, saying things he sometimes responded to, but often didn't. He shot her looks, usually blank, sometimes of discontent. Sam looked determined, resolved, sometimes, after a particularly sharp look, dejected.

Jacob didn't like the way Jack was capable of making Sam look, and not just because it spoke of things that shouldn't be but because he didn't like to see Sam hurting. And she was most certainly hurting, even if she was clearly putting on a brave face for her commanding officer.

It was late one night, the others were in bed, but she was sitting next to him in the co-pilot's seat, her face bathed in the low light of the Tel'tak, when he noticed how gaunt her face had become, how tired her eyes were.

"You should get some sleep."

She was quiet for a long moment. "Do you think they physically tortured him?"

"Why?"

"Because he carries himself like his body hurts."

"It's possible," Jacob allows.

"But you don't think it's probable?"

"I think that with the Blood of Sokar at her disposal, physical torture would be a crude method for Astarte."

Sam hummed her apparent agreement. "Do you think it's possible to remember being physically tortured so vividly that you can manifest actual pain?"

"Yes," he said, unequivocally.

Sam shuddered. "Do you think that's what they did to the colonel?"

"Probably among other things."

She nodded. "Yeah," she said quietly. "He's got some pretty bad things to remember."

"I don't know Jack well," Jacob said slowly, "but I get the impression that he's a man who is strong because he's had to be. He'll be strong through this too. Maybe too strong."

"What does that mean?"

"I know you care about him, Sam."

"Dad, I-" she started to protest.

He cut her off, "There's no use denying it. It's written all over your face. And I'm not going to pretend like it's okay, or that it doesn't seriously complicate matters, but I'm also not going to tell you to stop." He took a breath. "I know how impossible that would be."

He looked back out into the dark of space and studied her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed a little shellshocked by his understanding, as minimal as it was. She didn't say anything, though, his stalwart daughter. She just stared out ahead of her watching space slide by.

"What am I supposed to do, dad?" she finally asked, long after he thought the conversation was over.

"You do everything you can not to break the regs," he said unequivocally.

She nodded slowly. "I thought that's what you'd say."

"You've worked hard to get where you are. I'd hate to see you throw it away."

"Would it really be throwing it away?" she asked quietly.

Jacob figured he wasn't supposed to answer. Besides, who really knew what was between his daughter and Jack? He'd seen something in Jack's eyes but it might not have been anything potentially career ending for Sam. Sam was a beautiful young woman. Smart, strong... maybe what he saw in Jack's eyes was the same sort of passing interest he'd see in any man's eyes. Nothing to worry about. Nothing more than speculation.

"You should get some sleep," Jacob said again.

Sam nodded and pushed herself, tiredly, out of the chair. She touched Jacob's shoulder on her way by and he covered her cool hand with his own for a moment, feeling the way she felt more delicate than he'd have imagined she would, giving him something new to worry about.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Night, dad."

Jacob settled back into his seat. It would be hours before he'd be relieved by Teal'c, but he relished the quiet time on the bridge of the Tel'tak, alone with his thoughts – and Selmak's. It had been a long time since he'd spent so much time with other people. He'd grown accustomed to being on solo missions for the Tok'ra. He'd forgotten how exhausting it could be to be switched 'on' all the time. These short hours, between Sam going to bed and Teal'c getting up so Jacob could get a few hours of rest, were the only quiet time he got. And he found it more and more necessary.

Especially as he found himself worried over Sam. It wasn't just her obvious interest in her commanding officer, it was how personally affected she seemed by what had happened to him. He wondered how much was hold over from Jack's time on Edora. And since being on the Tel'tak, Daniel had filled him in on the details of the undercover mission that had immediately followed. Jacob wasn't sure if Daniel meant to, but the young man had given away quite a lot about Sam's state of mind through all of that. And Jacob didn't like what he'd heard.

All roads led back to Jack. Jacob hoped that Jack was either uninterested or oblivious, even though he knew that either option would, ultimately, hurt Sam. Neither would hurt as badly, though, as the entire thing blowing up in her face and taking her career along with it. He knew that whatever had happened to Jack on that planet that Jack wasn't likely to be looking anywhere for love, so there was that. But love had a way of finding you when you weren't looking for it. And with the way Sam looked at Jack, Jacob was worried that it might actually find him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

In the bunk room, Sam found herself staring at the ceiling, one arm crooked under her head. She could hear the uneven breaths of the colonel that told her he was awake. Under normal circumstances, she'd talk to him. But the circumstances weren't normal.

The last many days had been difficult. _He'd_ been difficult. Without knowing what he'd been through, exactly, it was easy to find fault with his attitude, his actions. She wanted to talk to him, she wanted to _know_. But one thing the colonel was was an intensely private man. And she couldn't see him just opening up about his torture, be it physical, psychological or sexual. She shuddered. She'd witnessed his sexual abuse, she'd seen the hollow look in his eyes, knew instinctively that his body was under the possession of whatever substances he'd been given and not his own mind.

She didn't feel anger or betrayal the way she did when she'd realized he'd had a sexual relationship with Laira because it was an entirely different thing. If anything, knowing what had been done to him made her more conscious of her feelings. She felt like she needed to hold herself away from him more than ever. Their easy flirting – the hallmark of their relationship – from before, that she'd wanted to get back to at some point, was going to have to wait even longer, it seemed.

In truth, she wasn't sure how to relate to him at all anymore. He was taciturn and yet surly. Gone was the man who'd make a quick joke.

It was getting harder and harder to take. She felt like she was in a pressure cooker in which the pressure had been building and building – probably since Edora, maybe even before. She hadn't realized how much she'd come to count on him and the easy way he had about him until she'd spent months without him. And now, knowing that the man she knew, the man she'd developed feelings for, might no longer be the man the colonel was, well, it was twisting her up inside.

Finally after twenty long minutes of listening to him breathe and knowing that sleep was going to elude her, she sat up and slid back into her boots. She crept back out of the room, shooting him a glance as she passed by. If she didn't know better, she'd have said he was asleep. But she did know better. She could even see the tension in his jaw.

Unwilling to continue her conversation with her father, she walked on to the place where days before she'd had her private encounter with the colonel – the last time she'd been alone with him. She leaned against the wall in the same place he'd been bracing himself that day because it made her feel connected to him – something she hadn't felt in quite some time. Something she'd always felt before, even if it had felt a little illicit, at times.

She clenched her teeth and blinked rapidly when tears threatened. She wasn't going to cry, not even in relative privacy. She had nothing to cry over. Unless she was crying _for_ the colonel she wasn't going to cry. And he wouldn't appreciate her tears. She could hear the edge in his voice as he told her to buck up on his behalf. No, he'd hold her if the tears were her own. Pull her into a tight embrace, frowned on, but not forbidden. He'd prove his tactile nature and tuck his head into the crook of her neck, breathe in the scent of her, exhale his warm breath onto her skin.

She closed her eyes and pretended like she could feel his body against hers, drew comfort from the memory of his strong arms around her. Then, after indulging for long minutes, she shook herself. She was supposed to be distancing herself from her feelings, not fostering them. She sighed heavily and opened her eyes.

To look right into the eyes of the man himself.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

At first his sleep had been dreamless but as time had worn on, he'd started to see images of the memories and hallucinations from his time in the cell. They weren't nearly as vivid as they'd been under the influence of Sokar's blood, but they were much closer to the surface than any dream had a right to be.

He'd awoken from a particularly realistic iteration of his time in Iraq just about the time Carter had come into the bunk room. She'd gone straight to her bunk and stripped out of her jacket and boots before lying down with a sigh that curled around inside his gut and left him aching to say something to her, but his reserves were empty and he wasn't sure what he could say that wouldn't come out sounding like everything else he'd said lately.

He was punching at her, at all of them, really. He was aware of it, but he couldn't seem to stop it. He didn't want to be the monumental ass that he'd become, but he didn't know how not to be. He was so chewed up inside by what he'd seen inside his own mind, by the horrific things he'd imagined about them, even, that nice, _normal_ even, wasn't on the menu.

For a long time he listened while she fidgeted, the sound of her socked feet rasping against one another was loud in the quiet room. Finally, she got up, slipped back into her boots and slid out of the room. It didn't take him long to decide to follow her. He wasn't sure of his motivation. He didn't really want to talk. Hadn't really wanted to talk since they'd come for him. But there was something about her eyes that made him feel connected, made him feel like there was a thread of the old him that was still out there to grasp on to. So maybe if he could just look her in the eye.

He almost turned towards the bridge but at the last moment had the feeling that she wouldn't have gone looking for her father. That didn't leave many places she could be, really. He checked the crystal room first but didn't find her until he ventured into that little alcove where she'd found him days before. She was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, eyes closed, jaw tightly clenched looking like her world was spinning apart.

He had the sudden urge to touch her. To thread his fingers into her hair. To cradle her head in his hand and wrap his hand around her waist. To _touch_ her. Like he'd never touched her before. Like he wasn't allowed to touch her. The attraction to her wasn't new. The tenderness was. And he had no idea where it was coming from. Especially when he couldn't find any tenderness in his words.

Then she opened her eyes.

Her eyes were bright blue with unshed tears. She looked exhausted. And then, suddenly, guarded and wary. "Did you need something, sir?"

"Can't sleep?" he answered.

She bit her lip and shook her head. She looked like she was steeling herself for an onslaught from him. Well, he may not be feeling magnanimous, but he could at least make it through one conversation without being an asshole, couldn't he? Besides, Daniel was the one that always seemed to try to push him into talking and Daniel was fast asleep, so maybe, with no one around to push his buttons, it would be okay.

"Yeah, me either."

"Janet sent some drugs, if you want them," she offered.

Jack shuddered. "No drugs, thanks."

"Oh. Right."

Her head lolled against the wall and he found himself looking at the strong cut of her jaw, pictured cupping it in his hand.

"So what's on your mind, Carter?"

"Sir?"

"You can't sleep. Why not?"

She shot him an incredulous look and then looked disappointed. "I'm too tired to sleep."

"I don't think my brain is big enough to understand that one."

"Why can't you sleep?" she shot back, with a glint in her eye.

"I have an excuse."

"And I don't?"

He was torn between being pissed and struck dumb. He was the injured party here. But, he had no idea what they'd gone through to get him home. So maybe there was something she'd had to do that was pretty bad. She _had_ killed Astarte, but it wasn't her first kill, and it wasn't likely to be her last.

Apparently she took his silence as his answer because she pushed herself off the wall and started to stalk past him. He reached out and snagged her by the upper arm. She gasped at his touch, he frowned at how thin she felt. "I wasn't implying anything, Carter."

They were close together. He could smell her.

"Weren't you?" She said acerbically, it stung to hear his usually acquiescent Carter use that tone on him.

"I wasn't," he tried for sincere.

She gently extracted her arm from his grip but turned to face him. "We've gotten you back. Three times now. But it hasn't been easy. And I'm tired."

It might have been the most honest thing she'd ever said to him if her tone of voice were to be believed.

They locked eyes for long moments. "I think I should try to go to bed again," she finally said and turned and left him standing in the alcove.

He didn't think she was going to have any better luck sleeping than she'd had before and he thought she was probably trying to get away from him more than anything else. And he wouldn't lie to himself, that stung a little. Especially since he'd been on close to his best behavior. Also, now he was alone again. He'd gotten so used to wishing for it that it felt a little strange to be wanting something different, but if he was being honest with himself, he still wanted her there with him. Even if he did have the rather odd compulsion to be touching her all the time.

He leaned back against the spot where he'd found her and imagined he found the wall warm from her body. It was a small comfort, but it was a comfort nonetheless.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam and the colonel didn't have any more late night run ins with one another, and for that Sam was glad. The longer he was trapped on the Tel'tak with the four of them, the shorter his temper got to the point that nearly everything that Daniel said was met with resistance and even Teal'c's suggestions were answered with scathing replies. He wasn't exactly _nice_ to Sam, but he did seem to take it slightly easier on her and she wondered if it had anything to do with that night and the things that were said – and not said – between them.

Besides his mood, his appetite was poor and Sam was concerned about the way his clothes were wearing – they seemed baggier than usual. His face looked gaunt, his eyes hollow. If she had to venture a guess she'd say he was malnourished and dehydrated, though they had plenty of food and water on the ship. She'd witnessed him eating and drinking, but never much and she didn't know if he was keeping it all down or not, it wasn't like she was following him around and it hadn't occurred to her that maybe he wasn't until she'd really, _really_ looked at him.

She was grateful they'd be home within the day. She really wasn't sure she could take any more of the close quarters and she thought the colonel would be best off under the care of Janet and probably Doctor Mackenzie. He wasn't going to love a stint in the infirmary, but Sam had a feeling that was exactly what he was looking at. And a psych eval was definitely in his immediate future, if not some sort of psychological treatment.

Sam sighed and pushed herself out of drawer of crystals she'd been poking around in just for something to do. "Major Carter?"

"Yeah, Teal'c?" She closed the drawer and looked up at the big man.

"We have entered Earth's solar system."

"We're earlier than I thought we'd be."

"I believe your father said we have made good time."

Same chuckled. "That sounds like something he'd say."

"Daniel Jackson and O'Neill are packing their belongings. I thought you would like the opportunity as well."

"Thanks."

He bowed his head with a glimmer of a smile and left her in the crystal room. She hesitated for a moment, not sure she wanted to go into the bunk room where the colonel was. Sure, he'd mostly been nice to her, but things had also felt a bit... off... between them and so she'd been avoiding him a bit, too. But truthfully, after a month on the ship, she was ready to be home.

So, she steeled herself for whatever bad attitude she might find and went to the bunk room. The men were working in silence. It was almost eerie. Daniel rarely did anything silently and he was punching things into his bag as if she'd just missed something between him and the colonel. Sam shot a glance at Teal'c but he wouldn't catch her eye. She chanced a glance at the colonel only to find him watching her intently. She felt herself blushing, though she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the intensity of his gaze.

It didn't long to pack, despite a month aboard, and before long, all four members of SG-1 were dropping their bags on the floor on the bridge of the ship and standing around waiting for Jacob to fly them in to home.

Unsurprisingly, General Hammond met them on the tarmac. He was the first to reach out to the colonel. "Colonel O'Neill, it's good to have you home."

"It's good to be home, sir," the colonel said, but his voice lacked its usual bounce and vigor. He merely sounded weary.

General Hammond exchanged a quick glance with Sam. "Good work SG-1. Jacob. We'll debrief on base. Jacob, we'd appreciate it if you could join us."

"Of course."

Sam and her father rode back to the base in a jeep with General Hammond and separate from the colonel, Daniel, and Teal'c, but Sam found it difficult to hold up her end of a conversation and soon, both her father and the General gave up trying to engage her in idle chat.

At the base they all gathered in the briefing room and scattered themselves around the table, the colonel in his usual seat again, and the General's gaze flitted around the table settling for a long moment on the colonel. Sam was suddenly afraid he was going to begin by asking the hard questions about what had happened to the colonel on the planet. But, after an appraising sort of moment, the General turned his attention to Sam. "Major Carter, we'll begin with you."

Sam took a deep breath and began to recount the details of the rescue mission.


	11. Part 2 - Chapter 10

Jack listened carefully as Carter went over the minutia of the rescue mission even though he pretty much already knew how it went down and the part he was really curious about – what happened on base while he was away – was the part the General was already familiar with, or was as familiar with as Carter was going to let him be. Soon, they backed up to the two week trip to pick from Earth to Astarte's planet, but Jack didn't find any of that interesting either. Instead, he fiddled with a pen and wondered how long it would take the General to get around to asking him to fill in the details of what had happened to him while he was Astarte's prisoner.

The question, though, never came. Soon enough, the General was dismissing SG-1, Carter and her dad were hugging goodbye and Jack found himself sitting, unsurely, back in his seat waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Son," the General said quietly while the rest of the team was saying goodbye to Jacob, "I thought you might like some privacy to do the rest of your debriefing."

"Oh," well, that made sense. "Yes, sir."

"Doctor Fraiser is going to want to see you now. But we can talk after that."

"If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd prefer to write my report."

The General looked a little taken aback by Jack's request but he didn't let it faze him. "Fine."

"I'll have it on your desk by morning."

"There's no rush."

"Thank you, sir." But Jack would have the report finished, nonetheless. He knew what had happened to him was going to open a big can of worms and, while he wasn't anxious to deal with the fallout, he wasn't interested in delaying the inevitable any longer than necessary, either.

"You can head on to the infirmary now, Jack."

Jack nodded and pushed himself up out of the chair. He stopped to shake hands with Jacob. "Thanks," he said, though it didn't seem like enough.

"You're welcome. I'd say 'anytime' but..."

Jack mustered up a chuckle even as his stomach turned. "Yeah."

He left Carter with her dad, the guys trailed him to the infirmary.

"Welcome back, Colonel O'Neill," Doctor Fraiser said gently, as she directed him to take a seat on the edge of one of the beds. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, mostly."

"You look like you've lost some weight."

"Yeah," he said uneasily. He could tell he'd lost some weight. He'd lost some appetite, too.

"How're you feeling?" She asked as she strapped on a blood pressure cuff.

"Pretty good, really."

"Anything in particular I should be looking for?"

"After two weeks?" He asked with a shrug of one shoulder. "Who knows?"

"Were you drugged?"

"To the hilt."

"Do you know what with?"

"Sokar's blood, some other stuff," he tried to say it matter of factly because he knew Daniel and Teal'c were listening in. And, despite everything, he didn't want to appear weak in front of them, in front of the doc.

"I'll take some blood, of course, but it's probably out of your system by now."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I feel normal." It wasn't _such_ a lie.

After that she drew the curtain around the bed to afford him a little privacy. She asked him to remove his clothing and she produced a pair of scrubs for him – long the preferred uniform for the infirmary – and left him to get changed. When she returned it was to look him over for bumps, bruises and other evidence of mistreatment. She frowned when she saw the way his ribs were visible and the way his collar bones protruded, but she didn't say anything, she just scribbled notes down into his chart. Finally, after she was satisfied, she delivered the blow, "I'm going to keep you. At least overnight."

"Aw, c'mon, doc-"

She held up a forestalling hand. "You're dehydrated, Colonel. You need IV fluids. And I'm going to take the opportunity to hang some nutritional supplements as well after hearing about your diet on the planet. I haven't seen your blood work yet, but I can already venture a guess as to what I'll see.

He sighed, resigned. "Yeah, okay."

By the time he was waiting to be shown to a private room, Carter had appeared for her post-mission check-up and Daniel and Teal'c were standing around waiting, presumably to be invited to his bedside. Not that they'd ever needed an invitation before, but after the two week journey and his admittedly surly attitude, it would likely take an invitation to get them to come over. The question was, did he want the company?

He dallied long enough that, eventually, they all filed out of the infirmary, all with looks in his direction, Carter's almost wistful, and he was alone. Blissfully alone for the first time since he'd been in his cell on Astarte's planet, unless he counted the medical personnel but they were very good at blending into the background until they were needed or necessary.

He wasn't pleased about being kept in the infirmary overnight - he'd have much preferred to go home. But in any event, he had a report to write. He summoned an orderly and made a request for a laptop – a request he's pretty sure he'd never made before – and then, once it arrived, settled in to try to write a detached version of what had happened to him on the planet.

Wanting to be detached or not, though, as he wrote, he could feel all the emotions bubble back up inside him as he described what he went through in as much detail as he could – he didn't want to have to revisit this once he'd turned in his report. He gave as much information as he could remember about the exact memories and hallucinations he'd had including the ones he didn't really understand, like the one where he couldn't protect Carter from Hanson. And even as he wrote he knew that MacKenzie was going to have a field day with the things he was putting down on the page.

It took him almost three hours, but finally, he was done. He stared at the computer screen, the words harmless enough but vile still. He set the laptop away from him with more force than was probably necessary and closed the lid with a slap that probably didn't do the machine any favors.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After a month away and a night in her own bed, it felt good to be back in her lab, not that she was having any luck concentrating on anything, not knowing that at any moment Daniel and Teal'c would be coming by to collect her to go to the infirmary to check on the colonel. They'd decided to go together – safety in numbers and all that.

He'd been downright churlish to Daniel, quiet to Teal'c... _strange_ to Sam. Their conversations aboard the tel'tak had stuck with her and left her feeling off balance and unsure where she stood with him. It didn't help that she was already feeling off kilter because of Edora and the undercover mission. If they were different people she'd think they should talk about it all, but Jack O'Neill wasn't a talker and neither, really, was she. She was bad at talking – she never knew the right thing to say. He didn't particularly like to talk, though he always seemed to know the right thing to say, even if it was the thing to say to bring the whole thing down around them all. The man certainly had a way with words.

"You ready?" Daniel's voice preceded his head into her lab by a matter of microseconds.

She wasn't, not really, but the trepidation in her friend's voice said he needed her with him as much as she needed to see the colonel for herself so she pushed herself back from the lab table and stood up off her stool. "Have you seen him yet today?" She asked unnecessarily.

Daniel shook his head. "I wanted to give him some time."

"For what?"

"Alone?"

Sam harumphed. "I wonder if that's really the best thing for him."

"It's not like he's been thrilled to be cooped up with us for the last couple of weeks."

She shrugged. Thrilled, he hadn't been, that was for sure. She thought back to their last conversation on the ship, the night she'd felt like she bared her soul to him when she'd been too tired to hide from him and had admitted how exhausted she was. He'd clearly been tired, too, but she'd reached a point that night where, as badly as she felt for him, and as much as she knew he'd been through hell, she couldn't make it all about him.

She wondered if, when she saw him in the infirmary, if she'd still be at that point. Had she reached a breaking point of her own?

When they reached the colonel's private infirmary room there was a momentary, comedic shuffle over who would walk in first. Ultimately it was Teal'c who shot them both an unamused glance then stepped first through the door. Sam's eyes immediately locked on the colonel who looked better rested than he had in a good long while and she hoped he'd finally been able to get some rest but also figured that he hadn't been given much choice as Janet likely would have had him sedated for his health.

"O'Neill," Teal'c greeted the man in the infirmary bed who scowled at, Sam guessed, their intrusion into his otherwise quiet space.

The colonel made a show of looking around each of them. "You didn't happen to smuggle in coffee, did you?"

"Jack, you know we can't-"

He sighed, "Yes, Daniel, I know."

Sam wondered at the lightness in the colonel's voice and wondered how much of it was for show. His eyes, though they didn't look as tired, still looked just as guarded as they had on the ship. Eyes that had always been open and telling were shuttered and it left her feeling off kilter.

She was looking at the lines around his mouth when she felt his eyes on her. She met his gaze and the urge to instantly flit her eyes away was strong, but she held there, waited to see what he wanted, what he'd reveal, but his eyes finally slipped away from hers leaving behind a feeling of bereftness that she was becoming all too familiar with.

"Are you feeling better?" Daniel asked.

"Better than what?"

"Better than you have been?" Daniel answered a little defensively.

"I got some sleep," the colonel answered noncommittally.

"That's good, sir."

He grunted and shrugged one shoulder but he caught her eye once more and gave her an intense sort of look that made her feel like he was saying something to her. _Just_ to her.

Daniel shifted nervously from one foot to the other; it was clear he wasn't sure what to say and the colonel didn't appear to be anxious to help him out. Teal'c, never known for his conversational skills, stood quietly by the bedside, his hands clasped behind his back, looking content to just be in the company of his teammates. Sam, on the other hand, was wracked with nerves.

The look the colonel had shot her had been laden with something, she just wasn't sure what. She'd felt it down deep inside herself. It felt familiar, whatever it was. It felt, a little, like that night on the tel'tak when they were alone and he'd reached out and grabbed her. It had felt like the heavy weight of his hand on her arm, burning.

She cleared her throat which drew all eyes to her and she suddenly wished she hadn't. She fumbled for something to say. "How long will you have to stay, sir?"

He considered her carefully. She could see a caustic look flit across his face but he discarded it quickly and she was glad. His answer was measured. "Haven't said."

"Oh."

As far as conversations went, it wasn't going well. But it sure felt like he was speaking volumes in some silent communication with her. When it became clear that he wasn't going to engage in idle chit-chat, Daniel gave him a half smile and made an excuse about some artifacts and made a quick escape, Teal'c trailing along behind him. Sam wondered, briefly, why she hadn't used the opportunity to escape as well.

Until he said her name. "Carter."

"Yes, sir?"

"Did you go home last night?"

She knew what he was asking. Did she go home and get some rest? She did go home. She even went to bed. But sleep had been elusive and she'd racked up little more than a couple of broken hours. But she answered the question as asked exactly. "Yes, sir."

His eyes searched hers, "Are you still tired?"

She thought they both knew he wasn't asking about her need for sleep. She tilted her head as she considered how to answer. Whether or not to answer at all. Figured, in the end, what harm was there in a little more honesty at this point? "Yes, sir."

He nodded once. Then, he leaned back against the pillows and heaved a sigh that made her chest ache. "Me too."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He'd be damned if he was going to have a conversation with the base shrink while on his back in an infirmary bed. It was bad enough he was doing it in the infirmary at all. He'd had a couple of chairs brought in and arranged himself in one of them, the IV lines draped carefully down the side of the chair.

He only had to wait a few minutes before a knock preceded Doctor MacKenzie into the room. Jack took a deep breath and tried not to let his hatred for the man bubble up inside him like a living thing. He tried to remember that he didn't _really_ hate MacKenzie, he hated what the man represented, he hated what the man did, he hated the reasons he had to see him. He didn't _know_ MacKenzie. Not really. He'd had only a couple run ins with him over the last few years, but the last one with Daniel and the schizophrenia had left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Colonel O'Neill," the doctor said as he entered.

"Doctor MacKenzie," Jack said with a curt nod.

MacKenzie dropped into the second chair, crossed his legs, and set a clipboard down on his lap. "Welcome home."

"I've been home for three days."

"That you have."

"And sometime during that three days it was decided that I'm not fit for active duty until you say I am," Jack said acerbically.

MacKenzie nodded slowly. "Doctor Fraiser is afraid that you have some lasting psychological damage after what happened to you on P3R-289."

"No offense, but it's nothing I can't handle on my own, doc."

"This wasn't your first experience with the drug you were given," MacKenzie's eyes dropped to his clipboard, "the Blood of Sokar, was it?"

"No."

"What does the drug do, Colonel?"

"Memories," Jack said and then shuddered involuntarily. "It makes you relive your memories."

"The first time, what memories did you relive?"

"You mean the first time when I didn't have to see a shrink before going back to active duty?"

"Yes," the doctor said evenly, even though Jack was trying to get a rise out of him.

"The death of my son."

"And this time?"

"That. And more."

"It went on for much longer this time, didn't it?"

"Yes," Jack said, begrudgingly.

"You were stranded for a month. For how long were you subjected to the drug?"

"The whole time, I think."

"You think?"

"It was pretty hard to keep track of time," Jack spit. It had felt like so much longer than a month.

"Did anything else happen to you?"

Jack hesitated. He really didn't want to talk about the sex, he didn't want to talk about the bathing, he didn't want to talk about any of the stuff that was going to make him have to talk about anything of a sexual nature with the psychiatrist. He'd been down that road once before after Iraq and while he would admit that it had been helpful enough at the time, it had been damned hard and he wouldn't have done it at all if he hadn't had a wife at home. And besides, what had happened to him this time was completely different. He could deal with it. He'd been drugged, he couldn't help what he'd done. It wasn't any different than what had happened with Kynthia, right?

"There were other drugs," Jack finally decided on.

"With other uses." MacKenzie deduced.

"Yeah."

"Were you tortured?"

"I was given a drug to make me relive my worst memories and to hallucinate new hells I never imagined. What would you call that?"

"Were you beaten?"

"No."

"Starved?"

"No."

"Deprived of sleep?"

"No."

"I'd like you tell me about the memories. The hallucinations."

Jack scoffed.

"It's not negotiable, Colonel. It's the price of active duty."

He'd known it was coming. He'd known it since the moment Fraiser had told him that MacKenzie was coming up. He was going to have to spill his guts if he wanted the gate back. The question was, how badly did he want the gate? After the mission, after what he'd been through, maybe not. He could honestly say he didn't really want much of anything. Except his couch and a stiff drink. He felt like he'd done a pretty damn good job of holding things together since he'd gotten back to base, but it was time to go home and give some deep thought to the man who'd had those thoughts, to the man who had left that planet.

After everything he'd been through in the past month, after everything he'd seen, he wasn't fit to lead a team anymore. He wasn't strong, he wasn't capable, he wasn't clear-headed – he was a mess. He was a shadow of the man he'd managed to become after his son's death. A shadow of the man he'd managed to become after living through all those things the first time. But living through them all in the span of a month, over and over again, living with the conjurings of his mind, it was all too much. Much more than he could bear.

"Well, doc," Jack said, "we can make this real easy."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"I'm not going to need the therapy. I'm just going to need retirement papers."


	12. Part 3 - Chapter 11

The doc flipped his chart closed with a small frown but when she looked up at him she still said, "I'm releasing you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"But, however, although..."

"But your weight is still down and I want you to try to eat _right_ Colonel, that means protein and veggies, not pizza and beer. And speaking of beer – I can give you something to help you sleep at home, but you can't drink if you're on it, you know the drill-"

"I don't want anything to help me sleep," he said quickly, still wary of being drugged, hating how it had felt in the infirmary, even though he'd understood some of the necessity of it.

"The good news is," she continued on, "that you'll be able to leave under your own power. I see no reason to force you into allowing someone to drive you home."

He couldn't check the grin. He had to admit that she knew him well after all this time. "Thanks, doc."

"If you have too much trouble sleeping, or if things get to be... too much... you let me know. We can get you some medication to... help even things out."

The smile dropped off his face. He'd been having nightmares, even through the sedation, it was no secret. She probably thought he needed to be put on some sort of anti-something but he didn't want any of the drugs. Not any of them. "I'll be fine," he said gruffly.

"But if you aren't," she offered.

"I'll be fine," he said again, brooking no argument.

She gave him a long, solid look then nodded once and took a step back and out of his way allowing him to exit the infirmary. He made for the locker rooms where he could change quickly. He shoved himself into his street clothes with little finesse and a lot of speed and hoped against hope that none of the footsteps that were falling outside the door belonged to his teammates. He wanted to get off base without telling them he was leaving. He wasn't exactly sure why, he just wasn't up for the big goodbye. Nor was he all that excited about the possibility that one or more of them would feel compelled to follow him home to make sure he was okay. Their hearts were in the right place, he was sure, but he was ready to be alone for the first time in what felt like a very, very long time.

When he pulled up in front of his house he was surprised to find it looking normal considering how very not-normal he felt and how long he'd been gone. The grass was high, but aside from that things looked like he'd just been there, not like everything in his world had just changed. Not like he hadn't just made a life-changing decision.

His separation paperwork was practically burning a hole in his brain. Filled out in the infirmary on the very same day he'd requested it, it wasn't exactly like one just _quit_ the military. It was a process. But the paperwork was on the General's desk and now he simply had to wait for all the pieces of the puzzle to flow down the appropriate channels. It felt... not like the _right_ decision, exactly, but it felt like the only real decision under the circumstances.

He certainly couldn't lead. Not SG-1. Not after watching himself kill them over and over in his mind knowing that, inevitably, that is what he was bringing to them – death and destruction now that he wasn't the clear-minded commander they needed.

In the house he poured himself a stiff drink glad to not be under the influence of the doc's drugs, wary a little of the effects of the alcohol, but not wary enough not to drink it. He slouched down into the corner of the couch and sipped at his drink as he thought about what his life might look like now, no longer a member of the formidable SG-1.

He thought about Daniel first, and how the younger man was going to take the news. He wasn't going to understand Jack's decision, that was for sure. He would push and prod and poke his nose into places it didn't belong until Jack was forced to tell him things he didn't want to tell him just to get him to shut up long enough to accept the inevitable. Teal'c would be different, stoic, understanding. Carter, well, he honestly didn't know what to think about Carter. But after the way she'd been treating him before things had gone bad on this mission maybe... maybe she wouldn't be so sad to see him go.

Maybe he'd move up to the cabin. Fish a lot. Get a dog. Forget about what it felt like to watch the horrific moments of his life flash in technicolor on the backs of his eyelids, hope that one day the dreams would stop and maybe he'd be able to find some soft solace in someone again. Except... he grimaced and took a deep swig of his drink.

He thought about the way Astarte's eyes had raked over his body as he'd been prepared for her after he'd been reduced to nothing more than an object for her use. There was no softness, no solace to be had in what he had to offer anymore. After the things he had seen, after the things his mind had conjured up, he didn't deserve pleasure, didn't want to feel it really anymore anyway. So broken down and worthless that he became a thing for servicing rather than a man for loving. It was, in a way, easier that way, too. To be nothing more than a stud for service with a purpose than to have to tap into the sorts of emotions he didn't think he had access or right to anymore?

He cast his eyes around the room until he found the bottle. He'd have to get up to refill his glass, but it was worth it. Now that he'd realized, remembered, what he was? How could he have forgotten after she'd spent such a long time teaching him such a valuable lesson? Jack pushed himself up out of the corner of the couch and ambled over to the bottle, splashed some of the liquid into his glass, and turned to stare out into the incongruously bright day. He took another drink and felt the way the alcohol burned on the way down.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam was dressed to go home, car keys in hand, when the General caught her in the corridor. "Major Carter! A moment, please."

"Yes, sir," she said, spinning on her heels to face him.

He had a stack of folders in his arms. "I'm glad I caught you."

Instinctively, she reached out to take the files from him, before they were even offered to her. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"You're on your way out. Can you drop these files by to Colonel O'Neill?"

She hesitated. She hadn't seen the colonel since he'd been released the day before and he'd promptly left the base for his home. He hadn't stopped to say goodbye to any of them, they hadn't even known he'd been released until they'd gone by the infirmary to see him and discovered him gone. It was clear, to her at least, that he wanted some space. And space didn't include your subordinate officer showing up on your doorstep with work in hand – even if the base commander sent her.

But, it _was_ the base commander asking, so, "Yes, sir," she said congenially. "I'd be happy to."

"Thank you. I could have had an airman take them over, but under the circumstances, I think a more familiar face might be better, don't you?"

She wasn't so sure, but one didn't necessarily disagree with the General. "You're probably right, sir." She shifted the stack of files in her arms. "Will he know what to do with them?"

"Yes, we've spoken. And until the paperwork is final he's still the 2IC of this base so I'm going to need him to carry on," the General said easily as if her brain wasn't whirring at a thousand miles an hour. The paperwork? What paperwork?

"Yes, sir," she said dumbly, anyway. Best not to ask, to get the information straight from the source if possible. She'd suss out what she could from the colonel, she supposed. If he was in a talking sort of mood, she would. Because he'd been so talkative lately...

In her car she mulled over what sort of paperwork the General might have been referencing. The sort of paperwork that would mean that the colonel was no longer the 2IC of the base would be separation paperwork, most likely. The colonel was leaving the Air Force? Without saying anything to any of them?

She supposed she shouldn't be surprised, after what had happened to him, not that she really knew what had happened to him. He hadn't said. She hadn't asked, she berated herself. Just because he hadn't offered to talk about it didn't mean he didn't _need_ to talk about it, she reminded herself. Though needing to talk about it and wanting to talk about it were two entirely different things and she was almost entirely sure that the colonel would never get to a place where he _wanted_ to talk about it.

Especially not the part she'd walked in on.

Sam pulled into the colonel's driveway and sat for a moment, collecting herself. She wasn't sure what she'd say when she was confronted by him, but just handing him the files and saying goodbye didn't seem like the right approach.

Sam scooped the files up off the passenger seat and climbed out of the car. At the door, she hesitated, wondering once more exactly how she should handle her encounter with the colonel. But then, before she could knock, before she could fully prepare, the door was swinging open and she was confronted by the man himself.

He looked tired, she noted, as she ran her eyes from his down to the beer dangling between his fingers. "You looked like your hands were full," he said by way of a greeting and she realized he'd likely heard her pull up.

"Thank you, sir."

"Hammond send those?"

"Yes, sir."

He nodded and took a step back, tacitly inviting her in.

"You want a beer?" he asked her, his voice rough, maybe a little surly.

"Are you leaving the Air Force?" she blurted out.

They stood there and stared at one another for long moments.

He canted his head. "How about that beer?" he finally asked again.

She took his deflection as an admittance. "You can't, sir."

"Oh, but I can."

"What are we going to do without you?" Oh god, but she sounded pathetic even to her own ears. In truth, though, the idea of the Stargate program without him seemed a little... dull.

"The program doesn't need me, Carter. You'll go on just fine."

"SG-1 needs you."

"No, you don't. You need a leader, we're a dime a dozen. SG-1 _needs_ you. It needs Daniel. Hell, it even needs Teal'c. But guys like me? We're expendable."

"That's not true."

"How about that beer?" He deflected once more.

"Sir," she said pleadingly. It felt like her insides were being ripped out through her chest. She'd never see him again. They weren't friends the way he was friends with Daniel. If they didn't work together, that was it. She was suddenly very sure of exactly how inappropriate her feelings for him were because she wasn't really worried about the program at all. She was worried about the fact that she'd never again get to sit across the table from him in the commissary, or sit next to him around a campfire, he'd never again be the one to hug her when things got bad, she'd never touch him again. She could feel the hopelessness drain the color from her face.

"Carter, you okay?"

She didn't like the genuine concern in his voice, it sounded too much like an older version of him that had made her feel things. She thrust the files at him. "Here." They fumbled until he had them in his arms. "I should go."

A look she couldn't quite decipher flitted across his face. "Okay," he said slowly. It was clear he was prepared for more fight from her and watching her prepare to flee was confusing him.

She couldn't leave without saying one last thing, though. "I know this is about what happened on that planet. I know I don't know what happened to you, but whatever it is can't be bad enough to give up the program for. It just can't be. Look at everything you've made it through in your life. Maybe if you just talked about it-"

"It _is_ about what happened," he cut her off acerbically. "And you have no idea what I've lived through, time and again. Talking about it isn't going to change it."

She backed up a step as if he'd physically slapped her. No, she guessed she didn't _really_ know what he'd been through, but she'd been able to piece together some of it from things he'd told her and things Daniel had told her, and she never expected him to fling such an acid accusation at her. "Is that why you're leaving? They want you to talk to MacKenzie, don't they? You're going to throw it all away because you don't want to talk to a shrink?" She laughed derisively. "Really?"

His eyes narrowed into fine slits. "Tell me, after what you walked in on, would you want to talk about that with the base psychiatrist?"

"If I'd been... raped... on a mission, I'd have no choice," she said in as strong a voice as possible and was pretty proud of herself when she didn't trip over any of her words.

"Well, I have a choice."

"Leaving isn't much of a choice."

"But it's mine."

"Is that the only reason? Because it doesn't fit, sir. I'm sure it's embarrassing, but it's not the first time you've been drugged and..." She trailed off, remembering Kynthia.

"It's not the same thing, but no, that's not the only reason."

"You don't want to talk about any of it."

"Not with him."

Sam was momentarily flummoxed and she could see doubt pass across his face as well. Did that mean that he'd talk about it with someone who wasn't MacKenzie? Someone he trusted? "I think you're making a rash decision," she said carefully.

"You're not alone."

"Which is why the paperwork is being processed slowly and why I'm bringing you files to work on. You're on a leave of sorts, pending a more resolute decision," she determined.

"I'm not talking to MacKenzie."

"Okay." She took a deep breath, no longer feeling the urge to flee.

"How about that beer, Carter?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod, "okay."

She followed him through the dining room where he set the files down on the table, into the kitchen where he retrieved a beer from the fridge. He twisted the cap off before handing it to her. Their hands brushed when he handed her the bottle and she tried not to let it affect her, but she was unsuccessful. She was hyperaware of him at the moment, probably because she was afraid this was the last time she was going to see him.

He looked at her speculatively. "You look like you've got something on your mind."

"No, sir."

"No, sir? I'm pretty sure that's never been true."

She huffed out a laugh. "I just mean, nothing in particular."

"Except me leaving."

"Except that," she acknowledged.

"I'm not dropping off the face of the planet," he said after a long minute.

Was that... was that an invitation? She knew the hope was a visible thing that spread across her face and she hated herself for it. She hated what she was letting him see in these short minutes together in his house. She felt like she was wearing her feelings for him like a neon sign. She'd done such a piss-poor job of hiding them from the people around her, though, that she wondered what made her think she could continue to hide them from the man himself.

Her only saving grace was that he'd been through so much that he likely didn't care what some poor subordinate officer thought about him. He didn't care about her before, he wasn't going to care about her now, not after what he'd been through. Maybe, maybe he wouldn't even be able to see it through the haze of everything else he had to look through. She clung to that idea, hoped against hope that perhaps she wasn't as transparent as she felt.

When she didn't say anything, he continued. "Not that you'd be obligated to..." he started uncomfortably.

"No, sir," she said, just as awkwardly. "I'd like to..."

"I thought so," he said gruffly.

She blushed. Did he have some idea of her inappropriate feelings after all? Would he take advantage of them because he needed the contact after what had happened to him? She'd never have what it took to ask. She took a long swallow of the beer then set the bottle down on the counter. Maybe it would be best if she left after all.

"I should go," she said once more.

He gave her a quizzical look, but nodded all the same giving her barely touched beer hardly a glance.

He followed her from the kitchen, through the dining room, and to the front door. As they crossed the threshold he gripped the door frame with both hands and asked her with a rough voice, "You gonna come back?"

She considered him carefully, she knew it was a big decision, she wondered if he knew how big a decision it was. There were undertones to their conversation she was acutely aware of and she wondered if he was aware of them, too. Finally, she took a deep breath and answered him. "Yes, sir."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Carter had only been gone long enough for the sun to go down when there was another knock at his door. He hadn't bothered with any lights since she left so he meandered through his dark home to the front door. He pulled it open without checking who was on the other side. As soon as he saw the fervent look of concern, he wished he'd checked the peephole. "Daniel."

"Jack. You didn't tell us you were leaving the base."

"It took you an entire day?"

Daniel harrumphed and shifted his weight, clearly wanting to be let in. Jack stepped back and waved him inside. "When you didn't tell us you were leaving I figured you wanted some time on your own."

"You figured right."

Daniel stopped by a lamp in the living room and clicked it on. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm your friend. I'm checking on you."

"You've checked. I'm alive."

"Jack," Daniel said, unimpressed with his churlishness.

"You couldn't have just checked with Carter? Did you really have to tag-team me?"

"Sam was here?" The shock in Daniel's voice was enough to pique Jack's interest.

"Yeah. Why do you sound so surprised?"

A guarded look passed across the younger man's face. "No reason."

Jack flopped down onto the couch and scratched his jaw. "Nope, try again."

Daniel lowered himself slowly into an armchair, seemingly aware he hadn't been invited to make himself at home. Jack knew his attitude wasn't at all welcoming either. It wasn't that he was upset with Daniel, it was that he wasn't exactly jonesing for company. If he was willing to put up with Carter earlier it was probably down to the strange new fascination he had with her, the desire to touch her, the odd feelings she provoked inside him that made him feel softer towards her despite what he'd been through, despite the fact that he felt so disconnected from the people around him.

He couldn't explain it, not when he'd watched himself kill her as many times as he'd watched himself kill Daniel and Teal'c. He felt the same way about his inability to protect her now as he did about his inability to protect them, but he still felt drawn to her in a way he couldn't really explain. In any event, he felt differently about Carter than he did about Daniel and he was intensely curious as to why Daniel would be so surprised that Carter would have come by his house. It wasn't as if she'd never been there before.

Jack studied Daniel as he appeared to be waging an internal battle with himself. He decided to keep quiet and see where the fallout would take them. Finally, Daniel seemed to come to some sort of decision because he sat forward in his chair and braced his elbows on his knees and said, "Have you noticed that Sam hasn't exactly been herself lately?"

No, not really. "How lately?" he asked instead.

"Since we brought you back from Edora."

What the hell did Edora have to do with anything?

"Or maybe after your undercover mission?"

"What about the undercover mission?"

"Do you notice how tired she's looked lately?" Daniel continued on as if Jack hadn't even spoken.

Well, she had mentioned she'd been tired, but he thought she'd meant she was tired of everything they'd been going through lately. But Daniel seemed to think that maybe there was more to it. "What are you getting at?"

"Sam's been working really hard these past few months."

"We all have."

"Yes," Daniel said slowly. "Yes, we have. But... Sam... she's done things, Jack... that..." The man spoke in fits and starts and seemed generally reluctant to speak at all.

She's done things that _what_? She found distasteful? Like killing Astarte? Is that was Daniel was driving at? Because so far Carter hadn't said anything about Astarte, and for that Jack was grateful. He didn't want to talk about the woman, even if he was glad she was dead.

"How do you think she looks?" Daniel asked suddenly.

"Carter?"

"Yeah.

She looked fine. She looked like Carter. Young and hot and tall and blonde and whoa! Where the hell had that come from? He'd admit to giving her second glances before but since when had he begun to lump her into his physical type? He frowned.

Apparently, Daniel took that as some kind of acknowledgement, though. "So you do think she looks a little... thin, maybe?"

"Thin?" He thought back to the tel'tak when he'd grabbed her arm and remembered thinking how thin she felt. Jack shook his head to clear it. "What the hell are you driving at, Daniel?"

"Just... maybe Sam's not doing okay."

"And why wouldn't she be okay?"

"You really don't have any idea, do you?" Daniel asked incredulously.

"About what?" Jack asked with exasperation.

"Nevermind," Daniel said quickly. Too quickly.

Quickly enough that Jack was suspicious immediately that there was something going on with Carter that he should know about. "If there's something going on with the team, Daniel, I should know." It wasn't strictly true, not anymore, but old habits died hard.

"There's nothing going on with the team, Jack."

"Or with one of its members."

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"But you did."

"Not really."

Jack rolled his eyes. No, not really. Just enough to leave Jack feeling curious. And irritated. "Daniel."

Daniel sighed. "Sam worked really hard to get you home from Edora. Did you ever wonder why?"

"No," he answered honestly. It was her job. It was what she did. She was Carter, for crying out loud.

"Then you wanted to bring Laira back with you."

So?

"And you really hurt her during the undercover mission. I don't know how, but you did. Do you know?"

Jack scratched at the back of his neck, suddenly struck with a strong memory of the look on her face when he flung some words at her. _I haven't been acting like myself since I met you. Now I'm acting like myself._ But surely she understood that he was playing a part, that he would have said things he didn't mean in order to fool them into thinking he'd gone over to the other side...

"Then, just when things might be able to get back to normal, you get stranded on another planet where you're tortured in ways we can't even imagine and she can't do anything to get us to you. Can you imagine how that must have made her feel?"

Super-Carter? Must have felt pretty powerless. But... what did all of that have to do with each other?

Then he thought about the look on her face when she stood in his house that afternoon and discovered he was leaving the SGC. And then, the look on her face when he asked her if she'd still come around and the pieces of the puzzle started to click into place.

"Are you saying Carter's got... that she..."

Daniel flopped back into his chair looking relieved. "I know I probably shouldn't have said anything."

"Have you _said anything_ to anyone else?" Jack asked, an edge in his voice that came with the knowledge that Daniel could very well end the very promising career of a young officer if he wasn't very careful.

"What? No! Well, not since Sam explained why she couldn't talk to you about how she felt."

Jack nodded. Just as well. The last thing she needed was to end her career over some sort of crush likely born out of hero worship. She'd always looked at him a little like he was larger than life and he should have seen this coming and maybe not have engaged in what he thought was harmless flirting. It was his default setting with women, especially women he liked, even if he didn't particularly want to sleep with them. And he'd admit that he found Carter attractive even if he never went so far as to fantasize about taking things beyond teammate status with her.

Until lately when he'd had that infernal urge to touch her. But damn it. Damn it all to hell. Now there was this to deal with. She had developed what she thought were _feelings_ for him. Which complicated matters greatly. Maybe his being away from the base was the best possible thing at the moment. Give her a little space to realize that she was just letting the events of the past few months build up whatever she was feeling until she'd confused her actual feelings for feelings for him.

Because Carter was smart. She was young, she was – dammit – beautiful, and she had a lot going for her, not the least of which was a bright and shining career ahead of her. The last thing she needed was a crush on a CO to get in her way. She might believe it to be more, but Jack, well, he'd been around the block a few more times than she had and he knew how these things played out and it was never love, it was infatuation that, once the sex had played out, led good officers into bad places more often than not. And above it all, he liked Carter. There was no way he was going to lead her down a path of no return.


	13. Part 3 - Chapter 12

Jack ripped himself awake, up out of a nightmare of what once would have been considered epic proportions but now was just run of mill after a month in Astarte's clutches. It wasn't even bad enough to wake him up so he wondered what had pulled him up out of the hell he'd been envisioning. There was a loud knock on the door – he could hear it all the way in his bedroom; he wondered why the person didn't just ring the doorbell.

With a groan he rolled out of bed and retrieved his sweatpants from the floor near the edge of the bed and pulled them on over his jockey shorts. He gave a cursory search for a t-shirt but didn't come up with one right away and the knocking was getting more insistent.

"Coming," he grumbled, definitely not loudly enough for the person to hear, but the knocking paused long enough for him to get to the door. He pulled it open without checking the peephole and was confronted by Samantha Carter in motorcycle leathers, a wide look on her face, her blue eyes glued to his bare chest. He cleared his throat uncomfortably – as he was suddenly reminded she had an attraction to him that was misplaced – and she immediately flushed with color in the early morning light. He waved her inside, taking stock of her decidedly non-regulation clothing and wondering why the hell she was on his doorstep looking like that, and led her through to the living room, her eyes hot on his back.

"It's early, Carter."

"Yes, sir. Sorry to have woken you."

He waited for her to continue but she didn't. "And why are you here on a Saturday morning at-" his eyes flicked towards a clock but it was too far away to focus on, "this early hour?" _Looking like one of his wet dreams? Oh, no, O'Neill, not going there. Too early, too her, too... much._

Her eyes flitted around the room seeming to light on everything but him, which seemed strange after her frank appraisal of him at the door. It had been uncomfortable to be perused that way. It reminded him of the way Astarte had looked at him, appraisingly, as he was prepared for her. Overall, he wasn't sure what to do what that information as it was a wholly new sensation considering he was a man for whom modesty was a fairly foreign concept. Finally, her eyes landed on his feet. He wiggled his toes under the weight of her stare and she bit her lip before speaking. "The files, sir. I'm on my way to the base and the General asked me to stop and pick up whatever you've finished with."

"Oh, right." He turned to go to the dining room, leaving her standing in the living room, the heat of her gaze burning into the planes of his back. He could feel her eyes on him as vividly as he could feel the lashings from the insurgents in Iraq in the memories from the Blood of Sokar and it only took a moment to throw him from the innocuous moment with her to the rage filled memory of being beaten to within an inch of his sanity and he had to brace himself against the wall with the intensity of it.

"Sir?" she asked, her sweet voice a beacon for him to follow back from the depths of his memories, but it wasn't enough.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said gruffly, and stalked off towards his bedroom. He rifled through his dresser until he came up with jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, a baggy, comfortable outfit that covered him from her eyes completely and saved him, he hoped, from another moment like the one he'd just had. He took a few deep breaths, more comfortable away from her and the way she was making him feel – between the way she looked and the feelings that elicited inside him, and knowing how she felt, and her frank appraisal of his body it was all forming a storm inside him that felt too familiar, anxiety like from one of Astarte's memories. He resisted the urge to go into the bathroom and empty his stomach into the toilet because it felt too much like losing.

He reached out and wrestled control of the situation from the recesses of his brain. He focused on what was tangible, what seemed real, what was, relatively, easy. He needed to talk to her about what she thought she felt. Nip that shit in the bud.

When he returned to the living room she was standing exactly where he left her looking unsure of what was happening. Her eyes glided over him from head to toe. She instantly looked more relaxed to see him fully dressed and that made him relax a little, too. But it wasn't enough, because part of him wondered why she was still there. She could have taken the files and fled the uncomfortable encounter. But that didn't make sense either because how was she to know which ones he was done with and which ones he needed to keep? He was being irrational because of his discomfort. And it pissed him off.

He figured, since he was already uncomfortable, and his discomfort had a way of manifesting as hard and uncompromising, it was as good a time as any to broach the subject of her little crush. Get it over with while he wasn't feeling magnanimous. She could take her motorcycle leathers and wide, penetrating eyes and get the hell out of his house. Before he felt something that he couldn't tamp back down into the dark recesses it belonged in. "Coffee?" he grunted.

Her eyes flicked to the same clock his had earlier. "Sure."

He nodded once and moved into the kitchen to make the coffee, she followed him and he could hear her peeling herself out of her leather jacket and throwing it over one of the dining room chairs. When he turned around she was in his kitchen in clothes that molded themselves so closely to her body that she might as well have not been wearing anything at all and he had a moment of bodily confusion wherein he went from lust to ambiguity to idle interest to disgust with himself all within the span of three heartbeats.

If he didn't know her better he'd wonder if she was up to something, showing up so early, unannounced, dressed like she was. He'd wonder if she was trying to get some sort of reaction out of him. He knew Carter. He wouldn't have thought her duplicitous, but maybe he was wrong. If he wasn't, it didn't help disseminate the anger that bubbled up at her, though. How dare she stand in his kitchen and look like that and make him _feel_ like she had? Didn't she know he didn't have any right to feel that way?

She cleared her throat and when he finally he tore his eyes away from her he realized he'd been staring at the juncture of her thighs. Great.

He looked into her eyes again and found that she was giving him a look he couldn't quite decipher, but if he had to, he'd have characterized it as loaded. He raised an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"Coffee, sir?"

He rolled his eyes and turned away to finish making the coffee, he was sure whatever had been on her mind, it hadn't been coffee, but if that was the way she wanted to play it, fine. Except, it wasn't fine. They needed to stop the thing before it got out of hand. And it might be damn uncomfortable to talk about, but fuck it – it wasn't like it was even the hardest thing he'd had to do in recent memory. And if it was hard for her, tough. If she couldn't handle it then clearly she wasn't prepared to be serious about anything anyway.

"Listen, Carter," he started, but then he wasn't sure how to go on.

"Yes, sir?" she prompted when he didn't continue.

He took a deep breath and set aside the anger that had bubbled up inside him before and tried for something that resembled the voice of a concerned CO. "Look, it's been brought to my attention that perhaps there are less than professional _feelings_ happening here."

She looked confused for a half second and then she flushed scarlet. "Oh god," she said lowly. At first he thought it was embarrassment and then he saw anger light behind her eyes. "I'm going to kill him."

"Now wait a minute, Carter-"

"No, sir. This has Daniel written all over it."

"This situation isn't Daniel's fault." he pointed out in a tone of voice designed to tell her exactly whose fault it was.

"I _told_ him-"

"Not to say anything, I imagine, because you know how damaging something like this can be."

"Sir, I-"

"Carter, take a minute," he said to cut her off a little more effectively. "I think I know what's happened here."

She looked at him, gobsmacked. "You do?"

"We've gone through some stuff. You're young and impressionable. And I'm – I've done some things that could be considered..."

"Yes, sir," she said quietly. "But no."

"No?"

"I'm not that young. Or impressionable."

"I'm giving you an out here, Carter. Take it." He was desperate for her to take it. Because this wasn't going the way he envisioned. He'd expected her embarrassment, perhaps even anger, but he hadn't expected to feel a bit of softness towards her when he'd seen it play out across her face. It didn't mean the anger was gone, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it hurt him to see her so clearly in pain of some kind.

"I understand that, sir. And as much as I'd like to take it, as much more comfortable as that would be... I'm sorry. I know this is the last thing you need."

"The last thing _I_ need? Carter, this is the last thing _you_ need! What you're feeling, it isn't real it's just-"

"With all due respect, _sir_ , what exactly is it that you think I'm feeling?"

"It's just... it's... it's a _crush,_ Carter. It's... I'm your CO, maybe there was a little hero worship and it..." She was turning a more brilliant shade of scarlet moment by moment. He knew he wasn't faring any better. He cursed the fact that he knew he was blushing.

"A crush," she said quietly, so quietly he had to look up at her. She looked like she had tears in her eyes as she bit her lip. " _Hero_ worship." She shook her head. "You're wrong. It's not a _crush_. It's not _hero worship,"_ she spit the words _._ "I _lost_ you. Again and again. First to that damn fire rain, then to Laira, then to an undercover operation, then on another planet, and I _felt_ all of that. You have no idea what I went through to bring you home not just once now. You have no idea how I've had to justify my actions to those around me. This is not just some silly crush, _sir_. I know how I feel."

"I think you're letting a bunch of bad situations and some pity color your emotions."

"Why is it so hard to believe that I would know better what I'm feeling than you would?" she spit at him.

"Because this could ruin your career, Major!" He hurled her rank at her in hopes it would help.

"You think I don't know that? If it were up to me, you'd have gone on oblivious to all of this like you have been all along. I could have gotten it under control. But Daniel..." She trailed off with a humorless laugh. "He just doesn't know when to shut up."

"He thought he was helping. He doesn't understand about the military. And he was worried about you."

In truth, Jack was a little worried about Carter, too. Because she sounded a lot more serious about her feelings than he'd thought she could possibly be. She was right earlier – he didn't need this bullshit. Neither did she. Couldn't she see how wrong he was for her? Couldn't she imagine how fucked up he was these days? It made him a little sick to his stomach to think she felt that way about him because he knew he wasn't a man who deserved that sort of feeling. He flashed back to her eyes hot on his chest and followed the natural progression of that heat to sex and felt the disgust boil back up, not for her but for himself and the allowance of such a desire.

"Well, worried or not, he had no right to say anything. Now you have no choice but to file charges," she said with an edge to her voice.

"Carter, I'm not going to file charges. You haven't _done_ anything, for fuck's sake."

"And besides, I don't know how I feel anyway, right?"

"Carter-" he said lowly, a warning tone in his voice.

She slammed her hand down on the counter with a bang that made him jerk with the reflex of a person who'd just been tortured. He reached for her both to gain control of the situation and to remind himself that above all he was dealing with _Carter_. He was grasping her shoulders so tightly he could feel her shaking.

Her voice was gritty as she said, "I'm just some dumb junior officer who can't tell her ass from a hole in the ground, is that right, sir? Someone who's flaky enough to put her CO on a pedestal and worship the ground he walks on because he's got eagles on his shoulders and a dark glint in his eye? Some young girl, dumb enough to get a crush on her hot superior officer because she's too busy, too _brainy,_ to go out and get laid? Is that it?" She laughed derisively.

She put her hands on her hips and her shirt stretched tight across her breasts, he was transfixed. He couldn't believe he was being sidelined by a nice set of tits after everything that had happened to him. What the hell was wrong with him? Then his brain registered that she was talking about getting laid and he conjured up images of laying her right there on his kitchen counter, sprawled out across the formica, and blood surged to his groin.

Suddenly, he had a strong desire to show her exactly how wrong she was about her feelings. Couple that with a very strong desire to prove to his body that what it thought it wanted was ludicrous, he snapped at her, "Carter? Shut up."

Her eyes went wide as her mouth snapped closed. The tension in her jaw made his hands itch with wanting to touch her, again, and that... the frustration with their argument, the frustration with his body's reaction to her – the arousal and the incessant desire to touch her – he lunged for her. She gasped as his mouth slanted down over hers, as one hand buried itself in her hair and the other did come up to cup her jaw. He felt the rush of air as she forcibly exhaled through her nose. A shocked sound issued from the back of her throat and it goaded him on, his lips hard pressed against hers, no finesse.

She made another, softer sound, a whimper, he felt her fingertips against his ribs, felt her lips move against his in an actual kiss instead of the weird approximation he had initiated. Instinctively, he suckled just a little at her top lip. Her welcoming mouth was the perfect invitation and he ran the tip of his tongue over the ridge of her top teeth. And then... it was the first electric jolt of their tongues touching that made him realize that maybe he'd miscalculated his position.

He slid his tongue against hers just long enough to enjoy the sensation skittering down his spine before he pulled back and just worked his mouth over hers for long moments. She mewled against his mouth, her tongue flicking against his lips, begging him for more of what had lit the fire so readily only moments before.

She raised her hands to his chest and he thought for a moment she was going to push him away but she curled her fingers into his t-shirt instead. He slid his hand from her jaw down her body to grip a hip covered by supple leather and pulled her into him, pushed his latent hardness into her soft belly, felt her gasp when she pulled the air from his mouth. He took advantage of her open mouth and curled their tongues together. He felt another jolt of pleasure that took him from half interest to fully ready.

It was that jolt of pleasure that made him rip his mouth from hers and take a step back from her. Both of them were breathing heavily, chests heaving. She opened her mouth to speak but he held up his hand to stop her. There was nothing she could say that would make what they'd just done, that would make his reaction, okay. She closed her mouth abruptly. He turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the kitchen, the coffee percolating behind her.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam stood in the kitchen long enough to hear his bedroom door slam. She stalked to the dining room and snatched her leather jacket from the chair she'd thrown it over earlier and stuffed her arms into the sleeves. She shot a glance at the files and spared half a thought for the General and her trip to the base before she decided that all of it could wait until she'd had a chance to process what had just happened. With shaking hands she turned the doorknob and let herself out of his house.

She stood by her bike long enough to make sure the tension she was vibrating with wasn't so detrimental that she couldn't ride but she determined herself safe enough so she fitted her helmet over her head and climbed aboard. As her motorcycle roared to life she swallowed down the feeling that everything had just gone terribly wrong. As she turned an arc in his driveway she shook from her head the idea that they'd just ruined their relationship.

She clenched her fingers around the handlebars, the anger radiating through her from fingertips to toes. She could feel it thrumming through her, the complete fury with him and his high-handedness about her feelings. How dare he insist he knew better than she did? She shifted gears and sped up as she pulled out of his neighborhood and out onto the highway.

She shifted gears again and hit the speed limit, shifted once more and blew past it. With the pavement whipping past her she finally felt like she could think. She thought about the feel of his mouth against hers, his tongue wrapped around hers, the electricity that sparked between them, his body hard against hers. She squeezed the bike between her thighs and revved the engine.

She'd been careful to not fantasize about what a physical relationship with Jack O'Neill might be like and now she was glad that had been her long running rule because there was no way fantasy could have lived up to the explosive reality. They had instant chemistry, that was for sure – no matter what he said about her feelings, he couldn't deny that there were definitely sparks between them.

In truth she was surprised by his physical reaction to her after what had happened to him. She wondered if it had anything to do with his reaction to what had happened. His refusal to say anything at all to her afterwards spoke volumes, she just wasn't sure what the words were. Underneath her anger was confusion from the part of her that was still cognizant of what he'd been through and that knew that all his reactions were colored by those events.

He hadn't talked about what had happened to him yet and she was desperate to know because she was desperate to know what she could do to help. Because while she knew the darkness she'd witnessed in the colonel that morning was a real part of him, it was a part of him he usually kept carefully covered over and the fact that he'd let her see it so fully told her a lot about his state of mind.

Because yes, she was angry as she could be at him for the way he was treating her about her feelings, but that didn't make the feelings go away. Part of her wondered if his inability to believe she felt what she felt had anything to do with that crack he'd made about her feeling pity for him. It made her heart hurt that he could think that. The pain made the anger recede.

She turned her bike around and headed back in the direction of his neighborhood.

She flirted more closely with the speed limit on the way back so it took her an extra five minutes to make the return trip but she realized, as she was pulling back into his neighborhood, that she'd only been gone about forty minutes. She hoped it had been long enough that he'd at least answer the door for her. She wasn't going to force him to talk to her. She thought it was probably best if they didn't try to talk anymore at all – enough had been said between them on that particular day.

She parked her bike behind his truck again and climbed off. She walked slowly to the door, steeling herself for whatever greeting he'd bestow upon her. At the door, she pulled herself up to her full height, knocked, and then waited. The door came swinging open with more force than was truly necessary.

"For cryin' out loud, Carter. Can't you just leave well enough alo-"

"Files," she interrupted simply.

He studied her for a long moment as if he didn't believe that was really why she'd returned, then rolled his eyes and turned and left her standing on the doorstep. She didn't follow him inside but instead stood there in the gaping doorway. He returned a moment later with a handful of folders. He held them out and she resisted the urge to snatch them from him. She took them civilly then turned away.

Halfway to her bike she still hadn't heard the door close so she took a chance and turned around to find him watching her. "You know," she said as casually as she could muster, "you can call it a crush if you want to, but that kiss..." She shrugged one shoulder and tilted her head. She saw the way he squeezed the door frame, so she turned on her heels and continued on to her bike. Let him chew on that a while.


	14. Part 3 - Chapter 13

Jack wasn't exactly prepared to be back under the mountain, but when the General told him that his presence was required because an Asgard ship was barreling towards Earth infected with alien bugs, he got his ass to the base, prepared or not. When he got there he was filled in on Carter's little mission and he was none to happy to hear about it.

"Why would Thor want Carter? And why would Carter take on such a crazy-"

"Jack!" General Hammond cut in when it became clear that Jack was getting ready to fly off on a tangent. "Thor told Major Carter he was looking for you, but you weren't here."

Jack felt a momentary pang of regret. Because now he was sitting around wondering if Carter and Teal'c had made it off the ship in time or if they were in pieces at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, too. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't, though, because even if he'd been there to lead them he'd likely have ended up getting them killed. His fault either way, he's too fucked up to serve and now his team is paying the price.

"The secondary gate is already on its way," General Hammond reminded him gently and he knew that his worry must have shown on his face. "As soon as it arrives we'll start getting it set up."

"Without Carter? How long is that going to take?"

"I don't know, son."

Jack nodded. "We don't even know if they made it." _Harp on it, Jack._

"We don't know that they didn't."

He knew most of his pessimism was related to his bad attitude from earlier. What a great way to start his day – sparring with Carter and then finding out she'd used whatever fire they'd lit between them to take some suicide mission with the Asgard and tried to get herself killed. Now who knew where she was and if she was even okay? Had she been reckless because of what had happened between them? He should have known better than to attempt to pull rank on her, to discount her feelings, to shut her down... hadn't he learned well enough he was a tool for service and nothing more? And now his high-handedness may have very well gotten her killed.

It was bad enough she'd taken off on her bike after they'd kissed and he'd known she wasn't completely okay – he could feel the way she trembled before he'd pulled away from her. But he'd needed some space and so he'd left her to do the dangerous thing, hoping she was smart enough to make a decent decision.

He thanked goodness he'd at least seen her long enough to know the motorcycle ride hadn't done her in, because, from the way he heard it, she'd been beamed right out of the SGC, no decision making about it. She'd been pulled right into the Asgards' mess and she would have gone in to win because that was what she did. At least she'd had Teal'c. Strong, capable Teal'c. A man who Carter could rely on to watch her six. She'd taken who she knew she could count on, she was smart. Hadn't even _asked_ if Jack was an option. Not from the way he'd heard it, anyway.

Jack paced from one end of the briefing room to the other, the windows overlooking the gateroom at his shoulder. The room looked just plain wrong without a gate standing tall inside it. He'd been there when the gate had been beamed away and remembered the instant feeling of elation he'd had when he realized that Carter had a brilliant idea to save their asses. But then he'd watched the ship crash into the atmosphere and burn up and despite knowing that SG-1 had a way of pulling itself out of scrapes of massive proportions, he found himself worried sick that maybe she hadn't been able to do what needed to be done this time to rescue herself and Teal'c.

But if she had, where were they? Were they okay? Surely they'd have gated to a safe planet. But even the safest planets had a way of becoming pits of terror and torture at a moment's notice. And they had no supplies. No food, no water, no camping gear – they'd be at the mercy of whatever people inhabited the planet or of their own survival skills, considerable skills, he'd grant them, but still... things could go wrong.

Incongruously he thought about her on the tel'tak coming back from Astarte's planet and the way he'd wanted to touch her – not the way he'd touched her in his kitchen that morning, but the way he'd wanted to just put his hands on her on that ship, to simply ground himself in her before things got complicated between them. Though, in the moment, it didn't seem to matter much how she thought she felt about him, he was willing – and able – to set that aside.

"Jack?" The General said his name as if he'd been saying it for a while.

"Yes, sir?"

"We've got a long few days ahead of us. Why don't you go... somewhere else?"

Jack frowned, already he'd worn out his welcome. "Yes, sir."

"Perhaps you'll want to reconsider your separation paperwork?"

"Temporarily, sir." Until Teal'c and Carter were back, in any case.

The General nodded. "Good enough for now, son."

"I'll be in my office, if you need me."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam ran a hand through her hair and when her hand came away sweaty and gritty she wished she hadn't. She felt dirty and more than a little gross. Of course, it had been four days that they'd been on this planet waiting for Earth to get the secondary gate set up and functional after she'd heisted the SGC's gate to save Thor, Teal'c and herself just moments before crashing the Beliskner into Earth's atmosphere to destroy the Replicators.

Shortly after they'd arrived on the planet, Thor's pod had been beamed away in a flash of Asgard light and she and Teal'c had been left alone to fend for themselves. Though there was plenty to eat and plenty to drink, Sam would be the first to admit that she didn't exactly feel clean without her field kit and soap.

She hoped things were going on Earth the way she intended. Without being there she could only hope they'd do what she thought they would. She didn't have any idea how long it would take them to get the secondary gate to the mountain or how long it would take them to set it up, but she figured any day now the dial home would yield results. Then again, she wasn't there to spearhead the effort to reconnect the gate, so who knew how long it would really take? The technicians were good, but the truth was, she was better.

She wondered if the upheaval had brought the colonel back to the mountain and hoped it had. The idea of him separating from the Air Force made her physically hurt, and it wasn't _just_ because she knew that their relationship would be irrevocably changed if left. She knew how much the program meant to him – and how much he meant to the program. He wasn't as easily replaceable as he seemed to think he was.

She wondered if he'd taken any time to think about what had been said between them. Was he still holding fast to his perspective about her feelings or had he started to turn loose from his beliefs and take her at face value? She wondered if their kiss had shaken anything loose inside him or if it had just locked him up tighter. Had it scared him, knowing what could be between them? In truth, it scared her a little, knowing that there was something real there instead of something she'd created in her mind. It was easier, in a way, when it was something that existed solely inside her.

Not that it didn't hurt when it was something that was hers alone. Not that she didn't ache, carrying it around all by herself. But the truth was, she didn't wish that kind of hurt on him if he was carrying it around now, too, especially not on top of what he was already carrying around. Maybe it wasn't fair to drop the bomb on him when she had. It had been selfish, now that she thought about it, to tell him how she felt when he was in the midst of dealing with what had happened to him on that planet.

Of course, she'd have never brought it up if Daniel hadn't. Daniel just had to go and open his big mouth because he was _worried_. Sam felt the anger well up inside herself again. She scuffed her boot through the dirt and drew Teal'c's attention. He raised an eyebrow at her, she shook her head in response and he went back to fiddling with the palm frond-y looking thing he was stripping for...whatever it was he was doing. Something for shade, she imagined. It was damned hot on this planet.

She shook her head and felt her hair flop limply around her head. "I'm going to take a dip in the river," she said to Teal'c. "See if I can wash some of this grime off."

Teal'c nodded once. "Very well, Major Carter. I will remain here."

"Thanks."

She wandered off towards the river, untucking her t-shirt as she went. She wondered how many more days she'd be stuck on this planet with her thoughts.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"How hard is it to set up a stargate?" Jack groused to Daniel over breakfast in the commissary.

"I'd say pretty hard," the younger man placated.

"It's been almost a week."

"Then yeah, pretty hard."

"They need Carter."

"Who isn't here to help."

"I _know_ that, Daniel."

"I know you know. They're fine."

"We don't know that."

Daniel was quiet for a long moment while he took a bite of his scrambled eggs. Then, "So, did you get a chance to talk to Sam?"

"About what?" Jack asked idly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"About... _you know_ ," Daniel said, raising his eyebrows.

"Daniel," Jack hissed. "Carter was right, you don't know when to shut up. This is none of your business."

"I'm just worried about her."

"Well, stop worrying. It's between me and her and it's _none of your business_ ," he reiterated, punctuating each word with a jab of his finger.

Daniel raised his hands in surrender. "Fine."

But it made Jack think about _talking_ to Carter and the way her lips had felt under his and the way her hips had felt separated from his fingers by supple leather. He'd lost a lot of sleep in the time she'd been missing thinking about that kiss and the way she'd tossed those parting words at him as she'd left his house with the files. _You can call it a crush if you want to..._ But that kiss... Damn. He licked his lips in memory of her taste on them before he remembered where he was and who he was with and caught Daniel's sharp eyes on him. "What?" Jack snapped.

Daniel, wisely, just shook his head and shoveled in another bite of eggs. Jack took a snarky gulp of coffee and looked anywhere but at his friend.

The truth was, that the longer Carter was gone, the more he thought about that encounter in his kitchen and the less he thought about it with irritation. And the longer he thought on it the more and more difficult it was to maintain the hard line that what he felt was libido induced. Sure, his body reacted strongly to her, but it was hard to hold that line when he kept being pulled back to those moments on the tel'tak when all he wanted to do was touch her. What was up with that? That wasn't sexual at all. That was... there was an emotional element there he wasn't entirely comfortable with.

And while he wasn't yet ready to call his feelings anything in particular, while he wasn't ready to name his feelings the way she was, he was at least willing to admit that there was something between them that might not be properly categorized under the umbrella of commander and subordinate officer. And that kiss had blown that particular barn door wide open. Open, wide, perhaps, but did he even deserve to have those feelings?

But admitting that maybe he had feelings for Carter that were less than professional and more than sexual didn't even begin to make him ready to do anything about them. If anything, the idea was terrifying. He had nothing to offer her. Even if the regs didn't stand between them, everything that had happened to him did.

With her missing, it just shined a light on the feeling he wasn't supposed to be having – wasn't supposed to be having because the Air Force said so and because he'd learned his lessons, dammit, in Astarte's prison! He'd learned that he was death, destruction, despair, and pain. He'd learned that he had uses but that pleasure was no longer a thing for him. Astarte had been thorough, he'd give her that. He felt like every corner of his psyche had been overturned. He just never dreamed that in one corner of his mind he'd find Carter.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"How hard is it to set up a stargate?" Sam groused to Teal'c over yet another dinner of a coconut-like thing.

"I would imagine it is very difficult, Major Carter."

"It's been a week."

"In fact it has been nine days."

"Not helping, Teal'c."

If she didn't know better, she'd have said she saw a smile playing around his mouth above that ridiculous looking caterpillar he'd grown on his chin that she'd only mentioned once before she learned that there were some Jaffa rituals one simply didn't want to learn too much about.

"I would have believed you would appreciate some time away from the SGC," he said rather cryptically, if she said so herself.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that you have been under a great deal of pressure lately."

"And you think this is some great vacation?"

"It is an improvement upon the worry about O'Neill."

"So you too, huh? You and Daniel have some sort of _divide and conquer_ thing going on?"

"I do not understand to what you are referring."

"Sure you don't," she muttered.

"O'Neill is a strong warrior."

"Yes, he is," she said, confused as to the apparent change in topic.

"But in my time with the Tau'ri I have come to learn that it is not always prudent to keep to oneself when coming to terms with situations that may be plaguesome."

"The colonel isn't exactly a talker, Teal'c."

"And yet, if he were going to... talk... I think it would be with you." With that, Teal'c got up and wandered away from their little shady lean-to leaving her alone with her thoughts.

If she thought she'd been able to hide her feelings from anyone at all, apparently she was sorely mistaken. She hoped that the knowledge didn't extend outside her team. If the General knew, though, he'd have had no choice but to split the team up already. The mere fact that SG-1 was still intact said that he didn't know. For that she could remain grateful. But it was disconcerting to know that she was so transparent to Daniel, Teal'c and her father and yet also at the same time how the colonel could have been so blindsided by the whole thing.

She waited around for Teal'c to return which he did in plenty of time for the sun to begin to set and then, like they had each night previous, they dialed home. When the gate connected, Sam let out a whoop that actually made Teal'c smile.

"Time to go home."

"Are you ready to be home, Major Carter?"

She had a feeling he wasn't asking if she was ready to be back on Earth.

"As ready as I'm gonna be. Let's do it?" She gestured at the gate as she waited on Teal'c to input the IDC just in case of iris placement, and then followed him through the wormhole.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Major Carter, Teal'c, it's good to have you home," General Hammond greeted the two wayward members of SG-1.

Jack for his part, couldn't take his eyes off Sam. She looked... well, pretty awful. She was dirty and sweaty and she looked tired and bedraggled and it took everything he had not to step forward and put his hands on her. Which is how he knew that he was in trouble. But at the same time he had the compulsion to touch her, a strong part of him was sneering at himself for even dreaming to touch her – like he was even worthy.

"I know I owe you a debrief sir," she started, "but all I really want is a shower."

Daniel laughed then and it drew the attention of not just her but of her commanding officer. He shrugged at both of them. "You do look a little worse for the wear, Sam."

"Permission to shower granted, Major Carter. We can debrief when you're done."

"Thank you, sir."

She started to walk off and like he was in a trance, Jack followed her. She stopped walking almost immediately. "Did you need something, sir?"

"What? No."

"Okay," she said slowly and started walking again. So did he. She gave him a sidelong look as he followed her out of the gateroom and into the corridor. They walked silently for a while, Jack concentrating on not letting the backs of his knuckles brush the backs of hers _just because_. "Are you sure you didn't need something?" She asked again when they'd made it to the door to the locker room and he found that they were just standing there, looking at one another.

"You had us worried."

"I was on a friendly planet."

"For all I knew you were on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean." He watched as she bit back a retort. "What?"

"What?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Nothing, sir."

"No, really?"

"Nothing. Sir."

He nodded once. At her reluctance to speak it he could pretty much guess what she was going to say, turn about being fair play and all of that. Maybe he'd just had a bit of a taste of how she'd felt countless times over the past few months.

"I think we need to talk."

She gave him a half smile. "Do we?"

"You know we do. But not here. And not at my place," he said quickly. Too easy to go back to more of the kissing at his place. Way too easy. And it had felt good, and pleasure was something he didn't feel, not anymore.

"You want to go _out_ somewhere?" The way she said it made it sound like a supremely bad idea.

"We'll think about it."

"Can I think about it after my shower, sir?"

"Look, Carter, I know the last time we saw each other I wasn't exactly..."

"It's fine, sir."

"It's not... _fine_."

"We'll talk about it later," she said quickly.

That's when he registered other people in the hallway and the way he was standing a little too closely to her as they talked. He wondered if she was drawing him in or if he was going to have problems with boundaries now... _after_. He took a deliberate step back. "Yeah. About that thing on Teal'c's chin..." he asked her.

She disappeared through the locker room door.


	15. Part 3 - Chapter 14

Jack dried his hands on a dishtowel and contemplated the bottle of whiskey on the counter. It was early yet, but he was alone and alone meant he could drink whenever the hell he felt like it. And he had been. Morning, afternoon, night, didn't seem to matter, if the demons came, so did the tumbler. It made the memories hazy, it made the dreams feel less real. The alcohol made it all seem a little more surmountable and made him feel a little less like he was one step away from losing.

He had just reached for the bottle when a knock he'd come to identify as _hers_ filtered through the house. He cursed, low, under his breath. He wasn't prepared for another encounter with Carter. The last time he'd seen her he _had_ told her they needed to talk, but he hadn't exactly expected her to press the issue. And he'd expressly told her he didn't want to talk at his place. He had his reasons and he wasn't prepared to justify them to her.

He stalked to his front door and pulled it open none too gently. She looked taken aback by the sharp, dark look on his face and his abrupt answering of the door. "Hi, sir," she said softly, her eyes dropping demurely in a way that went right to his groin, incongruously. Why did so many of the things she did turn him on? Hadn't he just been taught a very particular lesson about where he ranked in the hierarchy of pleasure? Shouldn't he know by now that it wasn't something for him to feel? Not anymore? He was disgusted with himself both for forgetting his hard learned lessons and for crossing a line with a woman he wasn't supposed to feel those things for to begin with.

He flashed suddenly to a moment back when he was being tortured when all he wanted to do was get home and make her eyes smile again. He realized, suddenly, that he hadn't given her eyes any reason to smile since he'd been home, and he'd completely forgotten that he'd wanted that at one time. He tamped it back down into that place he reserved for other things he no longer deserved.

He realized, then, that she was still staring at her feet after greeting him and they were both standing in his gaping doorway. He either needed to turn her away or invite her in and one was just as likely as the other at the present moment, he decided. "What are you doing here?" he asked her gruffly.

"You said we needed to talk."

"I also said not here."

"We shouldn't _go_ anywhere, either, sir," she pointed out. "And I didn't think you'd want to come to me. Actually, no sir, I didn't think you _would_ come to me."

Truer words were likely never spoken because chances were, as much as he had wanted to talk to her about the kiss they'd shared, that he'd have put it off indefinitely for lack of knowing what to say. But, she was here now and the least he could do, the very fucking least, was let her in. So he took a step back and gave her a half hearted wave inside. "I was about to have a drink. You want one?"

"It's eleven thirty."

"Is that a no?"

She grimaced at him. "Yes."

"Suit yourself." He closed the door behind her and then meandered into the kitchen. She, wisely he thought, didn't follow him to the scene of their last crime. He poured himself several fingers and then made her a glass of ice water in another tumbler and carried both into the living room where he found her studying the photographs on the mantle.

"You're here to talk," he reminded her.

"Because you said we needed to."

He took a sip of his whiskey and stared her down. "What the hell were you thinking?" He asked her instead of delving into to the topic they really needed to cover.

"About what?"

"Taking a fucking Asgard suicide mission?"

"It's not like I was given much choice," she said hotly. "And in case you've forgotten, I'm prepared for exactly those sorts of missions. Just because you weren't there doesn't mean Teal'c and I weren't perfectly capable of-"

"It has nothing to do with me not being there!"

"Then what's the problem?"

"I had no idea if you were alive or if your body was at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, Carter. Do you have any idea what that felt like?"

She laughed derisively. "Oh, I think I have some idea."

He looked at her sharply, one eyebrow raised.

"Does Edora ring any bells?"

"I was fine!"

"I didn't know that! I... you have no idea what I did to bring you home," she seethed at him.

It was true, he still didn't understand exactly what the big deal was. But he wasn't going to get into it with her again. She'd already told him how she'd invented something new, but as near as he could figure she did that on a bi-weekly basis so what the big fucking deal was he didn't know. "Is that really what you're pissed about?" he threw at her, knowing now that it was likely his dalliance with Laira that stung as much as his inability to understand her monumental accomplishment.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you pissed because I didn't thank you properly or are you pissed because I fucked another woman?"

She gasped, likely at his roughened language, but possibly because he called her out on her feelings so thoroughly with one statement. She pulled herself up to her full height though and he could see her steely resolve wash across her face. "I'll admit it hurt to watch you go to her, to know you'd started a relationship with her. But if you were happy..."

He laughed snidely, "Happy? I thought I was giving up everything I knew. Happy I wasn't, Carter."

"Oh."

"But Laira was a good woman."

He watched pain flit across her face at his saying something nice about the woman. "She'd have had to be, for you to choose her."

"You give me a lot of credit."

"I always have, sir."

"Even when I had to go undercover?"

"That was a difficult time," she said, carefully modulating her tone. "You weren't yourself."

"Oh, I was myself," he corrected her.

"I can't believe that."

"Believe it, Carter."

"I can't believe you'd have gone out of your way to hurt me."

"I don't owe you anything."

"If nothing else, sir, we were friends."

"Says who?" he spit.

She jerked as if he'd slapped her and it made him deflate a little.

"I didn't mean that," he said contritely.

"I think you did. At least a little," she said quietly. "Because we've never really been friends, have we?"

He considered her carefully. They hadn't been friends. Not the way he'd been friends with, say, Daniel. He didn't hang out with Carter, didn't call her up on a Friday night just to shoot the shit.

"But I know you, sir. And you're... I know what you think about yourself, but you're a good man. And you _wouldn't_ just have gone out of your way to hurt me. What you said had to have been..."

"If you're so convinced that I didn't mean what I said to you, then why are you pissed at me about the undercover mission?"

"Because you didn't _tell_ me what was going on!" She said heatedly.

"It was an _undercover mission_. I couldn't tell you!"

"I was your second in command, you could have told me anything and I'd have backed you up."

"I was under orders, Carter. You understand orders, don't you?"

A pained look crossed her face and he knew she understood exactly why he couldn't talk to her about the mission. But it didn't make it any easier to stomach. The whole conversation pained her and he knew it. He was blindsided again by the need to touch her, similar to the need he'd had on the tel'tak to just feel her skin, to know she was real and tangible right there in front of him. He felt, almost, like if he could just touch her, he could understand her pain, maybe even take it away though why he felt the sudden urge to take it away he didn't know, considering he'd felt so pained himself for so long now.

He sat his tumbler down on the coffee table next to the one of ice water he'd brought for her that had remained untouched. He reached for her hands. She startled when he took her hands into his and then she looked confused. But as he stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs she relaxed in his grip. He could feel the heat of their argument begin to fade away and leave behind something softer, for her, in its wake. He knew it was the feel of her skin against his that precipitated that change.

"I can't take back the things I said and did," he said. "I'm not even sure I'd want to."

"Okay," she said shakily, clearly confused.

"And you scared the absolute crap out of me when you were on that Asgard ship. Don't do that again."

"I did my job. I can't promise you I'm not going to do it again."

"I'm not good at being the one who's left behind."

"Then don't retire," she said pleadingly.

He squeezed her hands tightly, stroked his hands up to grasp her delicate wrists. He looked into her eyes and saw the way she softened at his touch. He could tell she didn't want to, there was still fire in her from their words, but just as he wanted to touch her she wanted so badly to be touched. A fine pair they made. But as he looked into her eyes he felt like they were finally really communicating, not just talking at one another and he liked the things they were saying, he liked the way they felt. It felt good to be connected to her the way he was, it didn't feel wrong or illicit or even as if he were taking something that no longer belonged to him. Touching her felt like being grounded for the first time in a very long time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam was startled from her work by the sound of her phone ringing. She pushed herself back from her lab table and reached for it before it could trill again, filling the quiet space of her lab with its shrill sound. "Carter."

"Sam, you were supposed to be in the infirmary half an hour ago for your follow up," Janet said with a hint of censure in her voice.

"What time is it?" She asked idly.

"Three thirty."

"I'm kind of in the middle of something right now."

"You're always in the middle of something."

Sam huffed. "I'll be there in a few minutes." It took her ten to wrap up what she was doing and then a few more to make her way to the infirmary. Janet was standing there, waiting, chart in hand, toe tapping, looking less than thrilled to be kept waiting. "Sorry," Sam said, feeling immediately contrite.

"You need to start taking your health seriously."

"I do take my health seriously."

"No, you don't."

"Janet," Sam said warningly.

Janet visibly bit the inside of her cheek. "First things first, I want you on the scale."

Sam wilted. She knew that she hadn't yet put on the weight she'd lost. She was afraid, even, that she'd lost more. She hadn't been hungry and it had been far too easy to skip meals, especially on the tel'tak when all they'd had to eat were MREs. But, dutifully, she climbed onto the scale. And waited for Janet to frown. "You're down another seven pounds."

"What do you want me to say?"

"That you'll take better care of yourself."

"I'm trying."

"I don't think that's true. Have a seat on the bed. I need to take your blood pressure."

Sam sighed and pulled off her BDU top, exposing her t-shirt and arm for the blood pressure cuff.

Janet silently took Sam's blood pressure and, with a mou of disappointment, recorded her findings in Sam's chart.

"What?"

"Low," Janet said simply.

"Oh come on, like I have any control over that."

"I want you eating better, sleeping more, and getting more exercise." Janet made a few more notations in the chart and then asked, almost conversationally, "How's Colonel O'Neill doing?"

"How should I know?" was Sam's immediate response.

"Haven't you seen him?"

Sam considered, for a brief moment, lying to her friend, but ultimately decided that would end up getting her in more trouble than it was worth. "Yes," she said simply. She decided not to elaborate at all, even when Janet raised her eyebrows and made a _continue_ motion with her hand.

It was all too easy to want to confide in someone about how she was feeling about everything that had been happening with the colonel in the last many days but as much as she wanted to, she knew that sharing the developments with her friend was out of the question. Telling Janet that there was a kiss between her and the colonel now would be just one more thing that Janet would have to _be worried about_. And Sam didn't want it to be something to be worried about. Goodness knew there was enough about it that provoked thought already.

Instead, Sam held it all inside herself, like something that needed to be protected, like a secret that belonged to just the two of them. Because, in truth, it did. Well, the two of them and Daniel. She should really have a chat with Daniel. She owed him a good talking to after everything he'd put her through, whether he intended to do it or not. He should have known, especially after she'd flat out told him, to stay the hell out of it.

"Are we done here?" Sam asked Janet, already pulling her BDU shirt back on.

"Not so fast," Janet said holding up her hand. "There's more to a wellness exam than taking your weight and blood pressure. I want to draw some blood, too." Janet took her time, Sam thought, drawing three vials of blood.

"Now, are we done?"

"I guess so," Janet said, clearly disappointed that she wasn't going to be getting any information out Sam. "But I'm serious about your weight, Sam, if you don't get it back up, I'm going to have to pull you off active duty. It's too low."

"Fine," Sam huffed, "I'll take care of it." She could put a few pounds on. She knew she could. She'd just have to pay attention, make it a point to eat three meals a day, maybe start putting sugar in her coffee again. At least for a little while...

"And six hours a night, at least. Every night."

"Fine," Sam said, surly still. Though she wasn't sure how she was going to convince her body to sleep for six hours straight multiple nights in a row when she could barely get herself to sleep for more than a couple hours at a stretch. But damned if she was going to ask for something to help her sleep. She didn't think that would go over too well, anyway. And really, it would just raise more questions.

Janet sighed, "You're free to go." It was apparent that she wasn't pleased that Sam wasn't opening up to her, but Sam couldn't bring herself to be completely honest with her friend. Especially not after knowing exactly what Janet's reaction to Sam's having feelings for her commanding officer would be – which is to say, she'd have the exact right reaction: concern.

Sam hopped off the table and donned her BDU jacket, intent on finding Daniel. "Thanks," she threw over her shoulder at Janet dismissively.

"Yeah," the other woman said. "Anytime." But she didn't sound very magnanimous.

Sam went directly to Daniel's office, she didn't dally, she didn't even stop by her lab for fear she'd get engrossed in something that would take her attention away from what she knew she needed to do. She poked her head into his office and saw him sitting at his desk hunched over a book, as per usual. "Hey," she said. "You got a minute?"

He started to smile until he saw the hardened look on her face and then he frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Let's go get some coffee," she said.

"I've got coffee."

"Off base."

"Oh. I'm kind of in the middle of something," he tried.

"It won't take long," she cajoled.

"I guess I can take a break."

It was a silent ride to the local coffee shop. Sam wasn't inclined to speak until she had the fortification of the coffee, or perhaps the distraction, and Daniel seemed to be able to tell that there was something very wrong and Sam suspected that he had some inkling what it might be. Once they had their coffees and were sat with a table between them she began. "I thought I was pretty clear about what you should and shouldn't talk about."

"When?"

"Daniel."

Daniel sighed theatrically. "Okay. But, It's not like I talked to anyone about it who could cause you trouble."

"You don't think my _commanding officer_ could cause me trouble?!"

"Jack? He wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"Right now, I don't know if that's true. And you don't either. Who knows what he's capable of right now, Daniel? But that's not the point. The point is, I _told_ you to stay out of this. And you went right to the one person you should have stayed away from the most. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Hopefully forced you two to talk to each other."

"Do you really think any of this is what he needs right now?"

"I think what he needs right now is to know that he's not alone."

"And you thought the best way to tell him that was to tell him that I had feelings for him?"

"Well... yes."

She hadn't expected that answer so she was momentarily flummoxed. "I thought I could trust you." Daniel opened his mouth to speak but she rushed on and spoke over him. "I thought we were friends."

"You can," he got out. "We are."

She shook her head. "Not like this, we aren't."

"Sam-"

"What you did changed things between me and the colonel forever."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Did you ever think that maybe they needed to be changed? Sam, you can't go on like you have been. You can't tell me that everything has been all right. You've been a mess, and not just because he's been missing for so much of the last five months."

She felt herself flush with embarrassment. She had been a mess and it was _damned_ embarrassing. "I don't know if I can forgive this," she said quietly.

"Sam-"

"You said you understood," she said pleadingly.

"I did understand. But then I thought about it. And he deserved to know. He _needed_ to know. And you needed him to know. Whether you know that or not."

"I'm a grown woman, I don't need you to make those decisions for me."

"You weren't acting like it," he said with a lick of heat in his voice.

"You're making it really difficult to look past this."

"I don't want you to look past it. I want you to see that I was right and that you and Jack need to deal with this."

She stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back from the table with her legs, her coffee forgotten on the table. "We're done here."

"Sam, come on."

"Find your own way back. I'm going home."

He sat back in his chair looking resigned. "I'll take a cab."

She nodded once and made for the exit. When she sat down in her car she realized she was shaking but she thought it was probably more nerves than anger because she suspected that maybe, just maybe, Daniel was right.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack pulled his front door open even as he rolled his eyes. "You know, I think I see more of you guys now than I did when I was on base."

Daniel took that as an invitation and walked into the house. "When is your leave over, anyway?"

Jack pushed the door closed and ignored the question. "Why are you here?"

"I just had coffee with Sam."

"Okay. So?"

"She's pretty pissed at me."

"Yeah." That was an understatement.

"She thinks you're going to make trouble for her."

"She does?"

"Well," Daniel hedged, "she said you could. I'm not sure she believes you really would. I think she's just really mad at me. She said she wasn't sure we were friends."

Jack grimaced. Daniel sounded hurt and hurt Daniel was a talkative Daniel. "I'll take care of Carter."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'll handle it. It's between me and her anyway. Don't you think you've been in the middle of this enough?"

Daniel frowned. "I was just trying to help."

"Carter was right, you know. You should have stayed out of it."

"You two are impossible," he said heatedly. "You were never going to talk about it!"

"She didn't _want_ to talk about it!" Jack felt the need to point out. "She wanted to deal with it on her own. She wanted it to go away."

"Feelings like that don't just go away."

Jack harumphed. "Now _I_ really don't want to talk about it."

"What's the problem, Jack? That you _don't_ feel the same way about her, or that you do?"

The question hit a little too close to home for Jack's comfort, considering the thoughts he'd been having recently. "The problem is you sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong like we're in high school or something."

"Well, if you're not going to talk about that, maybe you should talk about what happened to you."

"Maybe not."

"Jack-"

"Don't push it, Daniel."

"It's just... we have no idea what you went through and it might help us help you if we-"

"Daniel? Drop it."

"But Jack, if we just-"

"You've had the Blood of Sokar, Daniel. What the hell do you think happened to me?!"

"I meant... we walked in on..."

"Daniel," Jack said in a low, warning tone. "Don't tell me you _have no idea_ what happened to me when you clearly do have some idea. I'm not talking about it. Not with you. Not with anyone."

"But they're going to make you talk about it with _someone_ before you come back. Aren't they?"

"I'm retiring," he said, without preamble. "Carter didn't tell you?"

"What? No!"

"Well, at least one of you knows how to keep their mouth shut."

"You can't!"

It sounded familiar and he resisted the urge to answer in the same way he had previously. "I told you, I'm not going through this with MacKenzie."

"Then we'll get you someone else."

"I'm not going through it with anyone." Jack shuddered involuntarily. The idea of laying it all out for someone gave him chills all the way down to the center of himself. It was bad enough he had to relive the horror in his dreams, but to have to say it out loud would be too much, he thought. And then, to have to admit to how he was used? Too humiliating.

"So you'd rather just leave it all behind? No more stargate? No more SG-1? What about the rest of us?"

"You'll be assigned a new commanding officer and you'll go on without me."

"It won't be the same without you."

"Nothing stays the same forever."

"We were supposed to," Daniel said forlornly, it was almost enough to make Jack feel badly about leaving.

"This is the way it is, Daniel."

"So... you just go?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

After that Daniel was quiet for a long time like he was mulling things over. It left Jack disconcerted but he was reluctant to fill the silence for fear that he'd say something that would cause Daniel to start talking again. Finally, after what felt like forever and a long time after Jack started wishing he'd had a beer in his hands if only for something to do, Daniel said, "If you retired it would make it possible for you and Sam to-"

"Daniel, drop it." Jack cut in immediately.

"But-"

"No."

"So you're not interested at all?"

Jack hesitated, and he didn't know why. He should outright deny all interest in Samantha Carter, it should be his mantra, he should say it over and over again to himself and anyone who would listen to ensure that he didn't tangle himself up with her. But he found that lying to Daniel outright about it was pretty damned difficult. "I'm going to throw some steaks on the grill for dinner," he said instead. "You gonna stick around?"

Daniel sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure."

Jack exhaled with relief. Conversation over. Good.


	16. Part 3 - Chapter 15

Sam shifted her basket from one hand to the other and reached up high for the brass fitting that was just the right size. She dropped the item into her basket on top of several other things she'd been needing to pick up from the big box hardware store she generally bypassed for the smaller, more mom-and-pop place that was closer to her home.

She made her way to the cross aisle and down towards aisle twelve. As she made her way down to the plumbing supplies, a familiar riot of silver hair pulled her up short. The colonel. Standing there in the middle of her Home Depot. She hadn't seen him since that last moment in his living room when he'd reached out and touched her, taken her hands in his and held on to her. They'd parted strangely, barely murmuring goodbye and not meeting each other's eyes. She'd been shaken by the feeling of his hands on her, she couldn't deny it.

It had taken some of the wind out of her sails and she didn't feel so sure of herself anymore. She'd been the one, up to that point, to be sure of the two of them. She knew how she felt, and after that kiss she thought they really had enough chemistry to make a go of it. But she really, really wasn't going to make a move on him. The move had to be his. Especially considering what had happened to him. Things had to move at his pace and not one step further than he was willing to move at any given point.

So to see him standing in front of her where and when she least expected to see him was a jolt to her senses. He looked up then, at the exact right moment, and directly into her eyes. They were both frozen for a long moment before she gave him a half smile that he, very conspicuously, didn't return. If anything, he frowned, the lines on his face deepening. She felt the smile slide off her face. She greeted him anyway. "Hello, sir."

"Carter," he said gruffly.

She wasn't expecting the tone, not after the soft way he'd looked at her while he'd held on to her. She knew that he was probably having good days and bad days and, apparently, today was a bad day. She could either leave him be, not poke the bear as the case may be. Or, she could show him how she felt about him by being the one to step in close, even when things were prickly.

"I wasn't expecting to run into you here," she said, hoping to open a conversation.

He just grunted. Great.

"Got a plumbing problem?"

He looked down at the sink plunger in his hands and then looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

She chuckled ruefully. "Okay, I guess that's a yes." She fingered the cardboard packaging on one of the items in her basket for something to do with her hands while she tossed around a reckless idea. It was early yet, the morning only half gone, she had time to throw a little caution to the wind. Maybe he did, too. "Do you... maybe... want to go grab a little breakfast? If you're done here?"

His eyes burned into her. Yes, she'd just asked him out. But it's nothing they hadn't done before – shared a meal together. Maybe this was a little different. There wasn't as much standing between them with his retirement papers filed and her feelings out in the open. She thought, for a moment, he was going to say yes, but she saw the moment his eyes shuttered over and she knew before he said it that he was going to say, "I'd better get back. Clogged sink, you know."

She nodded slowly. "Sure."

"Maybe next time," he said, taking the sting out of his rejection, just a little.

"Yeah, okay. See you, sir." She turned on her heels and fled, completely forgetting what she'd needed on that aisle.

She finished her shopping only to run into him again at the self-checkouts. They stood side-by-side each running their purchases across the scanner and studiously ignoring one another until, finally, he turned to her. "Hey Carter, how about that breakfast?"

"Sir?" she asked, surprised.

"How about we get that breakfast, after all?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said with a half shrug. "I know a little diner we could try. It's usually empty this time of day."

"Okay," she said hesitantly, feeling like he was going to yank the rug out from under her at any minute.

She followed him to the diner, her little car behind his big truck sitting at traffic lights in the busy Saturday morning Colorado Springs traffic. But, as he predicted, the diner had mostly cleared out by the time they arrived. Only two tables were occupied and they chose a booth in the back corner far from those tables where the waitress had to wind her way through the maze of chairs to get to them. She arrived with a pot of coffee, two cups and two double-sided laminated menus.

"Welcome to Joe's," she said as if she'd already been on her feet for half a day. "Cream and sugar are at the end of the table there. Take a look at the menus and I'll be back to take your order."

She was gone before Sam or the colonel could say a word. Sam was taken aback by her abrupt nature but a glance at the colonel showed him already perusing the menu looking no worse for the wear of her attitude.

"Do you come here often?" Sam asked him.

"No," he said, but didn't offer more.

Sam turned her attention to the menu. It was standard diner fare, the same thing on every menu in every diner in the country. She settled on whole wheat toast and scrambled eggs, not feeling especially hungry despite being the one with the brilliant idea for breakfast with him.

They said nothing until the waitress returned to take their order. Sam ordered her toast and eggs, the colonel ordered the special – she had no idea what that was and she suspected he didn't really either though at these places it was always just about the same thing – and they both handed their menus back over to the waitress whose name tag, Sam was amused to find, read _Alice_.

Just when Sam thought it was going to be an incredibly quiet meal, the colonel cleared his throat. "In the briefing, when I got back, I never got to hear about what it was like when I was... away."

Sam's eyes widened. Did he really want to talk about this? She lifted her too-hot coffee to her lips and took an ill-advised sip.

"What did I miss?"

Oh, how to answer that question? "A lot of us trying to figure out how to dial a planet we couldn't get a lock on."

"What else?"

"The Tok'ra, telling us that maybe it wasn't such a friendly planet."

"So you knew."

"We suspected."

He leaned back in his seat, his body making an inelegant curve against the back of the booth. "What was it like for you?"

She could have played dumb and asked what he meant, but it wouldn't do either one of them any favors. Instead she decided to be honest with him. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"I'd rather not talk about any of it either, but one of us has to start, right?"

Did that mean... did that mean he was willing to talk to her about what had happened to him? Was this a tit for tat thing? If she opened up to him, he'd open up to her? Because if that was the case, she could endure any amount of humiliation if it meant he'd be given the opportunity to process what happened to him and heal. "Does that mean you'll tell me what happened to you?"

"Let's just start with you."

She didn't like the way that sounded. It sounded very one-sided. It sounded like she'd be baring her soul to him and he'd be offering her nothing in return. That was scary. It left her feeling very vulnerable and she hadn't even done it yet. But, it was time to take a risk and, he was a man worth taking a risk for.

So she told him about how it felt when she knew she couldn't get to him. She told him about the anger and the hurt she'd felt at the time when she thought about Edora, Laira, and the undercover mission. She stopped talking when their food arrived and waited impatiently as their coffees were refilled. Then she went on to tell him how scared she was when she found out that he was likely being tortured on that planet and how much of a failure she felt like because she couldn't devise a way to get to him, that she had to wait for the Tok'ra of all people to come to his rescue.

Through it all, as she laid herself bare to him, he was silent with an unreadable look upon his face. He'd encourage her to continue with his eyes when she'd falter or stop, but aside from that he didn't engage and he certainly didn't respond. But, when the check came he snatched it off the end of the table, paid it at the register despite her protestations, and he walked her to her car.

She was feeling decidedly off-kilter for his silence. But at her car she stopped and turned to face him, any words she might have had, though, died in her throat at the intense look in his eyes. He reached for her face, his fingers glided along her cheekbone and threaded into her hair. She couldn't help but tip her head into the cup of his hand. He held her, his thumb caressing the soft skin of her temple. His lips were soft and parted, it was as if he were kissing her right there in the parking lot of that diner but he was still standing an arm length's away. It was a singular experience in her life to be touched so profoundly and yet so innocently at the same time.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand. His eyes, they cleared, the brown lightened looking much less intense. He gave her a crooked half smile then turned and walked to his truck. She wasn't sure exactly what she'd said that had gotten that soft reaction out of him, but she was glad she'd said it. As embarrassing as the whole conversation might have been, as it turned out, it was worth it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack watched as Sam pulled out of the diner parking lot and turned towards her home. His mind had been reeling since she'd started talking and it hadn't yet slowed down enough for him to truly catch up. He was aware she'd left, he was even aware of the moment they'd shared before she'd climbed into her little car, but what had truly been said? He wasn't sure.

He did think it was highly possible that he'd heavily discounted the feelings she said she had for him, though. He'd been convinced that it was a crush, likely born of hero worship and, despite the fact that she'd denied that from the beginning, he'd been unwilling to see beyond that particular incarnation of things. But after hearing the way she'd spoken that morning he thought, maybe, what she was feeling was a damn sight more serious than he'd previously given her credit for.

Anyone who hurt the way she hurt while he'd been trapped on Edora and felt the way she'd felt when he'd walked away from her and turned towards Laira had to be feeling more than just the tendrils of a crush. She'd told him about the way he'd crushed her when he'd made his backhanded comment to her when he'd been undercover – he'd heard the hurt in her voice even now. Despite what had transpired between them since then she still believed, at least a part of her did, what he'd said to her that day might be true. He hadn't disabused her of that notion with their conversation in his living room, either.

He turned and climbed into his truck, unwilling to stand in the parking lot alone with his thoughts any longer. If he was going to be made to think, no, he was going to do it in his home, isolated from the world where there was access to alcohol.

The drive home was short enough and busy enough that he managed to put her and her words out of his mind for the duration of the trip but upon crossing his threshold he found himself once again plagued by the heavy thoughts of what if it was more than just a passing fancy? What if what she felt for him was something real and deep?

Did she know him well enough? There were so many things he'd never shared with her – things that were so much a part of who he was that they were a living breathing part of every decision he made. So, even if she didn't know those things specifically, did she know him and his reaction well enough to say she had true feelings for him?

He poured himself a drink despite the early hour. The truth was that the thought that Carter might actually be dealing in serious feelings had shaken him up quite a bit. When it was just a crush it seemed simple. Even if that kiss had been anything but simple once he'd experienced it.

Before Astarte, if he'd been confronted with her feelings he'd have felt... unworthy... of such attention from a woman like her. He wasn't stupid, he knew Carter was a catch. She was beautiful and brilliant. What the hell she thought she wanted with him he truly wasn't certain. If he were younger, maybe, smarter.

But since Astarte things were different still. Now he had his fancy new sexual hangups. It was an odd thing to intellectually know something to be categorically untrue and yet still emotionally believe it with every fiber of your being. Such was the lesson he'd been so unilaterally taught about pleasure: it was no longer his to seek. It was tough to believe that pleasure was something you deserved when hell flashed through your mind for weeks on end and then your body was used against your will.

He shuddered as he remembered those sexual encounters with Astarte. Pleasant they were not, but unpleasant would be the wrong word, too. He was aware of arousal, but the fact that climax never came wasn't a hardship, it simply... was.

He knocked back what was left in his glass and got a refill.

So now what did he have to offer a woman like Carter? He was older, dumber and had issues with sex – the one area where before he might have professed to have been able to hold his own if he had to match up with her. And she wasn't just looking for a tumble, anyway.

He was just heading down that train of thought when his doorbell rang. He looked forlornly at his tumbler of whiskey and then at the door wondering who, exactly, would be encroaching on his alone time and whether or not he could get away with continuing to get drunk while that person was present or not. He set his glass down on the coffee table and went to answer the door. He was surprised to find Teal'c on the other side, a taxi cab pulling out of his driveway behind the big man. Clearly he was planning on staying a while.

"O'Neill," Teal'c greeted him when he didn't say anything.

"Uh, hey."

The two men stood, impassively, staring at one another until Jack took a step back and tacitly invited Teal'c inside. Teal'c preceded Jack into the living room and Jack felt judged as he watched the other man's eyes light upon the glass of whiskey, even if he didn't say anything about it.

"What are you doing here?" Jack asked, picking his glass up off the table almost defiantly and taking a long draw.

"I have come to see of your wellbeing." Teal'c settled his bulk down onto the edge of an easy chair.

"I'm fine," Jack offered.

"Daniel Jackson does not believe this to be true."

"Daniel's long on gossip and short on truth right now."

"Is it your intention to leave Stargate Command?" Teal'c asked him outright.

Jack thought about beating around the bush but found that he couldn't play games with Teal'c. "I've already turned in my retirement papers," he confirmed.

"I see."

"It's time for me to go."

"Would it have been time for you to go had you not been taken captive by Astarte?"

Jack grimaced. "Doesn't matter. What happened, happened."

"When I was detained off world with Major Carter, I observed that perhaps you would speak to her about what troubles you."

"Why on Earth would I want to talk to Carter?"

Teal'c frowned at him. It made him wonder if Carter's feelings were a poorly kept secret on the team that Jack, himself, had been too blind or too conveniently blind to see. "You have always shared a connection with Major Carter that is unlike the bond you have with Daniel Jackson or myself."

This time, Jack frowed. Was that true? Could that be why he'd had the urge to get himself home to Carter? Some sort of connection he'd been blissfully unaware of? "Look, Teal'c, Carter's a good officer, and a great second in command. She's smart as hell and hell on wheels. I respect her. I _like_ her. But that's as far as it goes."

"Is it?"

Jack flashed back to getting tortured. _Get through it, get home, make Carter's eyes smile. Get through it, get home, make Carter's eyes smile. Get through it, get home, make Carter's eyes smile._ Did that really sound like a man who wasn't at least a little invested in someone? Had he been fooling himself all along that any interest he had in her was purely physical? Because she was something else to look at, he'd be the first to admit. But maybe there was something more to it.

But dammit, there couldn't be! Not anymore. "Teal'c, it's not that simple," Jack floundered for any reason that wasn't a truth he didn't want to admit to. "She's my subordinate officer."

"Did you not just say you have retired, O'Neill?"

Well, shit. Yes, yes he had. He grasped at straws. "The paperwork hasn't been completed yet. I'm still her superior officer."

"Is that your only objection?"

"What? NO!"

"It is clear to me that Major Carter has powerful feelings for you. And I believe you to have feelings for her that are not merely those a superior officer harbors for a subordinate officer. But perhaps," he said, settling back into his seat, "I am wrong."

Jack drained his glass and frowned at the bottom of it. "I'm going to get a refill. You want anything?"

"I do not."

Jack got up and ambled to the kitchen, using the time to collect his thoughts. Was Teal'c right? Could Jack really have feelings for Carter? It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to really feel for a woman. Since things had gone wrong with Sara, really. Things with Laira were different. He'd felt things, sure, but they were born out of a feeling of despair and loneliness. He'd made his choice when he'd had a choice of one.

He poured himself a new glass and realized it was number three. He was already well on his way to drinking his troubles away but a long way off from being drunk. And he really felt the urge to be drunk. But he wasn't going to do that with Teal'c in the house.

He needn't have worried, though. Teal'c was on the phone with the cab company when he returned to the living room. Apparently, he'd said what he'd come to say. "Don't leave on my account," Jack offered, after Teal'c had hung up, though.

"I must return to Stargate Command," he said, and offered no other explanation.

Jack didn't argue. The two men sat quietly until the cab arrived and then said short but not unfriendly goodbyes. Jack checked the clock. It was barely past noon. It didn't matter, though. He settled in to get good and drunk.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It had gotten late and Sam was channel surfing when the phone rang. Out of habit, she checked the caller ID and was surprised to see the colonel's home number on the display. "Hello?" She answered, warily, for she wasn't sure what he'd say after he'd been so quiet at breakfast.

He drawled her name out long and low. "Carter." It did funny things to the pit of her stomach.

"Yes, sir?"

"You should know that Teal'c and Daniel are both on your side," he slurred a little as he spoke and she deduced he was a little drunker than he should be. Because when the colonel was slurring his words, he was really, _really_ drunk.

"On my side?"

"About... you know."

She raised an eyebrow to the empty room. Was he talking about... was this about... oh, god were they talking about her _feelings_? "Uh... sir?"

"You weren't very discreet," he accused.

"They're my teammates and my best friends," she countered. "If anyone was going to notice, it would have been them. I don't think it's common knowledge."

"Ha!" And she could practically picture him pointing. "So you do know what I'm talking about."

Busted. Well. "Besides, I'm not sure we're on opposite sides of anything, sir. I'm not going to war with you over this. I never intended to tell you, even."

"Not the point, Carter."

She heaved a long suffering sigh. "Then what is the point, sir."

"That you... that this is potentially... Carter, we've got problems."

"Maybe we should talk..."

"Again?"

"I meant maybe we should talk about how you feel about... how _I_ feel."

She could practically hear him frowning.

"Because short of you being kind of pissed at me about it, I have no idea what's going on inside your head." When he didn't speak she blundered on. "I'll come over."

"No!" He said harshly.

"Sir-"

"I'm not in the mood for this, Carter."

"You don't sound very good, sir, maybe you shouldn't be alone anyway. And besides, you called me. Why?"

He couldn't seem to come up with an answer so he hemmed and hawed for long moments until he finally said, "It was a bad idea, one of many. Talk to you later, Carter." And he disconnected the call before she could say anything else.

It took her all of two minutes to decide to go over there. He was drunk, he clearly had things on his mind, she was a little worried about where his mind was going to take him and whether or not he was going to drink more. She'd heard stories about his time after Charlie and Sara and she knew he had the proclivity to really drown his emotions and she wondered how much of this had to do with her and how much was a result of his time in captivity. And if he was unspooling over his time with Astarte, he really shouldn't be doing that alone, no matter what he believed. So she climbed into her car and made the relatively short drive to his house.

When she arrived the house was dark. She climbed out of her car, suddenly wary of knocking on his door. He'd know it was her. He could just as likely ignore her, not let her in. Or answer the door and _still_ not let her in. He wasn't obligated to see her, just because she showed up. But she hoped he'd allow her to be present for whatever was going on with him. She genuinely wanted to help him. This wasn't about her feelings for him, this was about him and whether or not he was going to be okay. This was about how he moved forward.

At his door she took a deep breath before she knocked twice, hard enough to bruise her knuckles, then she waited, butterflies in her stomach. She heard him approach the door before he pulled it open and then they were standing there looking at each other. He had steel in his eyes and a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

"I told you I wasn't in the mood."

"We don't have to talk."

He raked his gaze over her from head to toe and it made her shiver under his scrutiny. "Then what did you have in mind?"

Her brain instantly flew to sex with the way he'd looked at her, how could it not have? But she couldn't imagine how that was at all what he meant. "You're drunk," she said needlessly.

"So?"

"You shouldn't be alone."

"Not my first drunk, Carter."

"Can I come in?"

Incongruous to his unwelcoming look and stance he took a step back and waved her inside. She was surprised, really, that he let her in. In the living room she turned on two lamps and sat down in the easy chair, leaving the couch for the colonel as he seemed to prefer it. He blinked rapidly in the light and sipped on his drink as he sank into the corner of the couch.

"Why are you drinking?"

"Why not?"

"You must have been drinking all day," she observed. "Does this have anything to do with breakfast this morning?" When she'd left him at the diner she'd been concerned, he'd been so quiet, but then he'd touched her and she thought maybe, just maybe, he'd been okay.

"Not everything is about you," he said churlishly.

"I didn't say it was," she said, refusing to rise to the bait. "You clearly had some things on your mind this morning, too."

He shrugged, childishly.

"Do you want to talk about what happened to you?" she asked him carefully.

"Do you want to talk about what you did?" he threw back at her.

She stiffened. "What I did?"

"Well, sure, Carter. I'm not the only one carrying around baggage from this thing. You killed a woman. You wanna talk about that?"

"No," she said quietly. She didn't. Not now, anyway. She'd done a spectacular job of putting the whole thing out of her mind, actually, shoved it aside for dealing with the more immediate needs of the colonel. "I talked this morning," she pointed out. "It's your turn."

"My turn? My _turn_?" He laugh derisively. "Fine. You wanna hear about it, Carter? Then fucking fine. Sit right there and listen." His eyes turned steely, his face went hard and she was suddenly afraid to hear the things he might have to tell her. She thought it was going to be an emotional opening up, but it was becoming clear that it was going to be something else entirely.

"You probably noticed that Astarte was interested in more than my diplomatic skills while we were on her planet. It took me a while to clue in, but I finally did – right about the time she asked me to be her consort. She had thirteen of 'em," he said and took a swig from his glass then grimaced. "Anyway, after dinner one night she asked me to her private home for a drink. I should have known something was up. She was pissed when I turned her down for the consort thing. So, she drugged me."

Sam was uncomfortable as he spoke, his tone cold, his eyes shifting from one point to another as he recalled detail after detail that he assimilated and then discarded shared or not.

"When I was eight years old I watched my best friend get hit by a car. I ever tell you that story? I got to relive that as if I was there all over again. Like I was that kid but also like I was an adult both at the same time, knowing it was going to happen and experiencing it for the first time. I held him in my arms, had his blood on me. Because sometimes the things that shit shows you isn't real."

He got up and walked to one of the big windows and stood there looking out, his back to her, but he kept talking. "And when I was a teenager, my dad shot himself in the upstairs bathroom of our house. When it really happened, my mom found him. But there? On Astarte's planet? It was me."

Sam's eyes filled with tears. She hadn't even known his father was dead let alone that he'd committed suicide when the colonel had been just a boy. She swiped at her eyes, not wanting him to see the tears if he turned around. He didn't need her sorrow, he needed her strength, and that was what she'd give him, if ever he turned back to her.

"I was tortured in Iraq. Again. And again. And again. And again. I lost count of the times. But it was still better than having to watch my son die over and over again. I shot him," he said quietly, so quietly she had to strain to hear. "The last times, it was me, I shot him." The colonel's voice broke and then turned hard once again. "But the worst of it? The worst of it besides that? The hallucinations. The things my brain came up with that had no basis in reality. The things that were just a part of the sickness that is inside me."

"You're not sick," she tried to counter.

"You don't know what I saw."

"So tell me."

"I killed you. You and Danny and Teal'c."

"Why?"

"Because you were there, in front of me, and I had a gun in my hand."

"It was a hallucination," she said softly, fighting the urge to cross the room, to stand next to him, to put her hands on him.

"It was in my head, Carter. It was in there, just waiting to get to out."

"That's not true. It was the drug. I don't believe for a moment you've been harboring some secret desire to kill us."

"Not a secret desire," he said with a shake of his head, "an inevitability. I can't keep you safe. I can't keep you alive."

"Is that why you're retiring? Because you think your hallucination was your brain's way of telling you that you were going to fail us somehow?"

He didn't answer he just stared resolutely out the window into the dark night.

"Colonel," she said, finally standing and crossing the room to stand behind him, even if she was two feet away from him when she stopped advancing, "you never failed us before, and you wouldn't fail us now."

"You can't possibly know that."

"I trust you."

"You shouldn't."

"What happened after the Blood of Sokar?" she asked quietly, still standing closer to him.

"There were other drugs. She made me drink things that made me..." He started breathing heavily through his nose and she caught his eye in his reflection in the window. His voice went steely again. "The drugs made me hard but without feeling, so she could use me for as long as she wanted. The others were willing so they got to..."

She followed, she didn't need him to say it so she let him off the hook. "Yeah. How long?"

"By the time you showed up? It had been days."

She closed her eyes. For days he'd been left in a pleasureless state of arousal so he could service Astarte whenever she chose. "Was it painful?"

"I'm not taking questions," he said snidely, which she took as a yes. "So, now you know."

"I know a little, yes."

"You want _more_?" he asked incredulously, turning towards her.

"I'd like you to tell me more about your hallucinations. About what you did to Daniel, and Teal'c, and me. I think it would help you to talk about it. But we don't have to do it right now. It might actually be better when you're not drunk," she said frowning.

"The only reason I'm talking is because I'm drunk. And I think I'm done now."

"Drinking or talking?"

"Both. I'm going to bed."

"I'm sleeping on your couch."

"Carter-"

"Sir, it's late and it's been a rough day."

"Fine, suit yourself."

He left her without another word. She sighed turned off the lamp farthest from the couch and then sat down and toed off her shoes. She lay down and pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and spread it over her body before reaching up and clicking off the lamp on the table by the couch.

It felt very strange to be going to sleep on her CO's couch, but, she reminded herself, he wasn't really her CO for much longer. Really, he was just a guy. A guy she had a very complicated relationship with. A very complicated guy she had a very complicated relationship with. She groaned and buried her face in the throw pillow. It smelled like him. It was going to be a long night.


	17. Part 3 - Chapter 16

The first strains of light were barely filtering into the room when Jack opened his eyes. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton and his head was pounding. It had been a good long while since he'd had so much to drink. He stretched in his bed and contemplated getting up. After a few minutes of reveling in the softness of his bedding his decision was made by his bladder and he groaned as he shifted into an upright position and his head protested the movement.

As he moved through his ablutions in the bathroom, the night before came filtering in little by little. He rolled his eyes as he remembered telling Carter what had happened to him. Had he really been so drunk that he'd have allowed himself to blunder through those walls? He could feel the usual anger and recrimination begin to build within himself. Then, as he washed his hands he recalled how the night ended. She was asleep on his couch. And suddenly, all the darkness in him receded.

He quietly made his way down the hall and into the living room. Carter was stretched out on his couch, his grandmother's afghan spread over her, the throw pillow clutched to her chest. Carter was a cuddler. Huh. He sat down on the coffee table so that when she opened her eyes he'd be the first thing she saw.

He remembered being angry the night before, but the emotion had dissipated into something more nebulous. And seeing her asleep in his space was doing funny things to his insides. Things that felt an awful lot like that kiss they'd shared in his kitchen. Startled, he realized he _liked_ seeing her there, on his couch, asleep. He filed that information away for later.

"Carter," he said, his quiet voice sounding loud in the room. She didn't stir. "Carter," he tried again, a little louder and using the backs of his fingers to trail across her exposed cheekbone.

Her eyelids fluttered open. She came awake slowly, her eyes filling with trepidation as she became more and more aware. He realized he put that look in her eye with what he'd told her the night before. Possibly with the way he'd told her. Still, the first words out of her mouth were, "Are you okay?"

He tried to smile, ended up nodding. "Yeah. I'm fine. Headache," he said with a shrug and she nodded with a sympathetic look on her face. "It's morning."

Her eyes meandered over his shoulder to the windows. "It's early," she observed.

"Yeah."

She looked at him with unsure eyes like she wasn't certain what was supposed to happen next. He realized then that he had no idea why he woke her up other than that he simply wanted her with him. It socked him in the gut. None of this felt like all the anger that had built up inside him since he'd been home. Maybe spilling his guts to her the night before had been helpful after all.

"I'm sorry about last night," he said.

She sat up. "I'm not," she said, causing his eyes to snap to hers. "Jack..." she said his name slowly, softly, as if taking it out for a test drive, "nothing you told me last night changes anything."

He took a moment first to let his body adjust to the sound of his name on her lips and then to assimilate what she'd said. But it didn't matter, he still felt wholly unworthy of her feelings. "Carter, I don't-"

"No. It doesn't change how I feel about you," she blushed as she said it.

It made him want to touch her heated skin. It also made him want to know exactly how she felt. He'd gotten bits and pieces from Daniel and from their exchange in his kitchen, but he'd been too angry that day to really hear her. After their breakfast the day before he thought maybe he was ready to really listen on the subject. "And how is that?" he asked her quietly.

Instead of answering his question she raised an eyebrow at him."You were so angry last night. What's changed?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I woke up this morning and you were here."

She took a deep breath and searched his eyes. "And that's a good thing?"

"Apparently. Don't change the subject. Tell me how you feel."

She sighed and looked at him with big, blue eyes, dark in the low morning light. She looked like she was trying to figure out not only how but _why_ she should chance opening up to him. He hadn't exactly made it attractive so far, he knew.

"Just trust me a little, Sam."

She bit her lip then nodded minutely. She appeared to steel herself. It physically pained him to see her bulk herself up against him, but he knew he deserved it. She shifted until her knees were between his but still she sat there quietly.

"Trust me," he begged her, suddenly desperate to know exactly what she was keeping from him that was so big that she was reticent to even say it.

"I think..." She audibly swallowed, met his eye then her look skittered away. He reached out and tapped her knee until she looked him in the eye again.

"You think?"

She exhaled. "I think I love you."

" _Think_?" Isn't that the sort of thing you knew?

"Well, the last time I was in love was Jonas and we both know how that turned out."

He huffed out a laugh. Love? That was serious. That was no crush, no bout of hero worship, no little dalliance to just sweep aside. But... she couldn't love him. She didn't _know_ him. Oh, sure, she knew some things about him, she even knew a great deal about the man he let her know. But there were things about himself he didn't let her – or anyone – see. And then, top it off with the new shop of horrors he'd opened in his head after his stint with Astarte and there was just no way she could love him. "You have no idea what loving me means," he said, no edge to his voice, and watched her face crumple. He'd asked her to trust him and she had. And he'd thrown what she said back in her face. Accused her yet again of not knowing herself.

"I should go," she said quietly, her voice shaking and he knew she was near tears, he could see her blue eyes swimming.

"Sam-"

"Don't," she said harshly. "Just... don't... say... whatever it is you were going to say. Just... let me leave." She stood up and found herself trapped between his legs. He slid back on the coffee table, releasing her from the prison of his thighs. She swiped her keys up off the side table and then made for the front door.

He wanted to say something, anything, to take the sting out of his words, but he didn't know what to say that wouldn't make it worse. So, he just watched her go, listened to the sound of her car starting up outside and tried not to think of what her face would look like, tearstained on the drive home.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She felt agitated for hours as she cleaned her house to dissipate the energy bubbling inside her. Finally, though, she climbed into the shower. It was an eerie sort of calm that settled over her once she showered the smell of him out of her hair. To admit to him that she felt love for him had been a big step – one she hadn't even been ready for, but he'd asked her to trust him and dammit, she did. More than anyone else on the planet, she trusted Jack O'Neill; even after everything, even after the way he'd treated her during the undercover mission, damn it all. She should have known better, she figured. He was damaged from what he'd been through, there was no way he could keep from lashing out. But he'd seemed so calm, so different than the angry, reticent man he'd been since his return. He'd seemed almost like his old self.

So it had been relatively easy to sit there and tell him she loved him. Or, at least that she thought she did. Because, really, with her track record, could she even truly say? She worried that she didn't really know what love felt like, that she just ran on a mix of lust and excitement and called it love. But she would say that what she felt for him was different than what she'd felt for any other man, ever. So if she was going to cop to love this might actually be the time to do it.

Of course, he hadn't said boo about it. Aside from yet another crack about her not knowing how she felt, that is, though it was more a testament to how he viewed himself than how he viewed her now that she thought about it. It made whatever anger was left inside her smooth out into something more like disappointment. She had no clue how he actually felt about her. In all the talking they'd done on the subject, he'd never expressly said he wasn't interested in her in the same way she was interested in him, and that gave her a little hope that perhaps there was some potential for something more with him. Especially now that it wasn't a crime to want something more with him. Or, well, very nearly wasn't a crime.

That wasn't to say she was looking forward to his retirement. As much as she liked the idea of being able to relate to the colonel as a man rather than as her commanding officer, he had been a stellar CO and she would miss serving under him. SG-1 had been a singular experience and it would never be replicated no matter who General Hammond brought on board to lead the team. Oh, sure, part of the way SG-1 had felt had to do with the way she'd come to feel for the colonel, but a great deal of it was in the way they all related to one another. And, just as much as she'd miss the colonel, she'd miss the way he and Daniel played off one another, and the way he and Teal'c would say so much without saying anything at all. They were, for lack of a better analogy, her family. And it felt very much like she was losing a family member in the loss of the colonel.

But, there was the potential to gain, as well. Or, at least, after the kiss they'd shared and the heat it had contained, she'd hoped there was. Now, she wasn't so sure. Perhaps too much had happened to him in his life both before and after Astarte to make him accessible to her. It already sounded as if he didn't believe she could possibly feel the way she knew she felt and she didn't know how to convince him of her feelings when he wouldn't allow her to show him _or_ tell him. And how was she supposed to convince him, anyway when he wouldn't even really talk to her about what had happened to him? Oh, sure he'd given her something, but it wasn't a conversation and it certainly wasn't going to help him solve anything.

She thought about the way he'd talked at her the night before and how he'd flung her actions in her face like she'd done something to be ashamed of. She knew he'd killed before, just as she had, though she'd never done so quite as deliberately as she had Astarte. If putting it out of her mind was healthy, then she was doing great, but she suspected she was going to have to actually deal with what she'd done sooner or later. She was going to have to admit that she'd killed the woman because of what she'd been doing to the colonel at the moment Sam had found her. Had she not been in the process of raping him, perhaps Sam would have let her live, perhaps Sam would have let the colonel do the killing, perhaps any number of things would have happened.

She cursed the zats that made it so easy. One shot stun, second shot kill, no muss, no fuss, no bad dreams keeping you up at night because you killed the woman that tortured the man you love until he turned into a shell of his former self. She shook herself. So maybe she hadn't put it out of her mind completely. But she'd done a hell of a job jamming it down into the back of her mind until she didn't have to focus on it. She had other things going on. Bigger fish to fry. And anyway, so far nobody had gone barking up that tree and she suspected that they wouldn't. Astarte's death was considered collateral damage of the rescue mission. It didn't seem to matter that it wasn't strictly necessary. Perhaps even the General was willing to turn a blind eye over the fact that his second in command had been tortured for a month by the woman. That sort of thing went a long way when making decisions.

Thinking about Astarte that way made her think about what the colonel had said about the drugs he'd been given. The words were imprinted on her brain. _The drugs made me hard but without feeling, so she could use me for as long as she wanted._ How must that have been? To be nothing more than a tool for her use in such a base and personal way? To have been aware of what was happening but to not feel the sensations of pleasure your brain and body were expecting? Was it help or hindrance considering the nature of their involvement? She wanted to talk to him about it, but she was afraid he'd given all he was going to on the sexual portions of his torture.

She was very afraid that one of the reasons he was so adamantly against her having feelings for him was because he was afraid of what it meant if they were together. She was afraid that there were now physical barriers he'd have to push through in order to have a sexual relationship again. She wondered if that was what, or at least if it was one of the things, holding him back. He'd been so angry after their kiss and he'd clearly been aroused, she'd felt him, hard against her. So fast it had happened it had made her head spin.

She closed her eyes and rolled her head on her shoulders. She felt so tense after all the thoughts about him. She shrugged out of her robe and pulled on a soft pair of lounge pants, a long sleeve t-shirt, and fluffy socks, prepared to spend the rest of the day curled up doing nothing but watching mindless television and hopefully keeping her thoughts off of Jack O'Neill. Which was, of course, when her doorbell rang.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack stood nervously on her front stoop waiting for her to open the door. He'd given her hours to cool off, sure she'd been more than a little angry with him for the way he'd betrayed her trust that morning. And she deserved to be angry. He felt more than a little contrite, and to be fair, contrite was a welcome change from the anger he'd been feeling for so long. But it still didn't taste right in his mouth. So he decided that it was probably best to deal with this thing right off rather than do as they usually did and let it sit and fester.

When the door did open, he was greeted by the sight of Samantha Carter looking smaller than he'd likely ever seen her, swathed in big, comfortable looking clothes, with wet hair. Like most things did these days, it made him want to touch her. It occurred to him then that they were just standing there, looking at one another. "I think I might owe you an apology."

She took a step back. "Come in, then."

He followed her inside and into the living room. They stood there, awkwardly, while she waited for him to speak. "This morning, knowing you were there, it made a difference. To how I felt."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. He rushed forward before he lost his nerve and didn't get his full apology out. "And I asked you to trust me and tell me how you felt and then I discounted your feelings."

"Again."

"Yeah," he said. He ducked his head and grasped the back of his neck. She wasn't making this easy on him, that was for sure. "I'm... I'm... I'm an emotional mess on a good day, Carter, and that was before this happened."

"I don't think that's true."

He reached out and snagged her hand, looked her in the eye. "You don't _know_ me, Sam. You know Colonel O'Neill. _I've_ got an ex-wife and a dead kid and baggage from Iraq and-"

"I know those things."

"Peripherally. You know _of_ those things."

She pulled her hand, trying to extricate it from his, but he wouldn't let her. "Don't be upset, please."

"What do you want me to say? You're telling me, _again_ , that I don't know how I feel."

"I'm not! I'm just telling you that there's more to me than the guy you know."

"But the guy I know is a big part of you. And I know enough about him to know how I feel about him," she said softly, her eyes downcast.

With his free hand he lifted her chin until their eyes met. "But if all of that wasn't enough, I've got this fresh hell to navigate. And Carter... Sam... even I don't want to deal with that."

"You shouldn't have to do it alone."

"I'm not sure I'm going to do it at all."

"You have to," she objected. "Or the anger you've been feeling... that's as good as it gets."

"Unless you're planning to spend the night every night," he said teasingly. When he saw the sad look flit across her face he realized that perhaps it wasn't the best thing to be teasing her about. Even if she did make him feel a damn sight better just by being around. "Bad joke."

She shrugged one shoulder as if he hadn't just carelessly hurt her. Again. "You have to know, I'd do whatever you needed to help you."

He did know that. It was Carter, for crying out loud. She went above and beyond the call of duty every single time. He sighed, looked down at their joined hands, and then tugged her to him and into his embrace. She was stiff against him for a long moment until he smoothed his hands across her back and she sort of melted into him. Her wet hair was cold against his cheek but her body felt so good against his that he didn't really notice. "I know," he said lowly.

"I never meant to make this harder on you," she said against his chest. "You need to be worrying about feeling better not... me."

"I'll admit, at first I was pretty upset that this had come up. The timing sucks more than a little."

"The timing was always going to suck. It's why I was never going to say anything."

He pulled back and looked her in the eye. "You'd have gone on, feeling like you did, and never saying anything? Why?"

"Because it was better to be a part of the team than to not be anything at all. And I love everything about SG-1." She cracked a smile. "Not just you."

He sifted his fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck. "Are you really sure?"

"About how I feel?"

"Yeah."

"Yes," she said simply, surely.

He closed his eyes for two heartbeats. How could she be so sure about him when he was so patently unsure about himself these days? He could barely stretch good hours together let alone good days. What on Earth did he have to offer her? But she didn't seem to care. And she was offering him a port in the storm, she was offering him help.

"I'm not... I'm not where you are. But, I'll admit that my feelings for you aren't just professional."

"Well, it's a start," she said softly.

"Yeah, I guess it is." He tightened his fingers in her hair and watched as her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted making her look so utterly kissable that he couldn't help but lean down and capture her lips with his own. She made a surprised sound in the back of her throat and one of her hands flew to his chest to curl into his shirt. He kissed her long before he opened his mouth to her and let her curl their tongues together, but when she did he felt it all the way to his toes. And, more to the point, everywhere in between. It pulled him up short. He pulled back from her abruptly, his breath coming in short pants just as hers was.

"What's the matter?" She asked, breathily.

He rested his forehead against hers. He didn't want to do it, but if he was going to try something with her and he was beginning to be willing to admit to himself that he was, then perhaps he needed to talk to her about the sex stuff. Because he couldn't even kiss her without it becoming an issue. "Maybe we need to talk about what happened after the Blood of Sokar."

She looked at him with big eyes and nodded, led him to the couch and sat him down. She curled up on the cushion next to him and waited for him to speak.


	18. Part 3 - Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter (and the next several), Jack begins dealing with the issues of his time with Astarte, including his sexual assault. He talks and thinks about it, sometimes in great detail. This is the last warning I'll put up because the rest of the story is about his healing process so expect mentions of his abuse from here on out.

Sam watched as his face changed and he went to a darker place. "Are you sure you want to tell me this?" she asked him. It wasn't that she didn't want to know, and it wasn't that she didn't think he needed to talk about it, she just wondered if it wasn't, perhaps, a little early in their _relationship_ to be broaching the subject of what she knew was his sexual assault.

He shook his head. "No. But I think you deserve to know why I can't even kiss you without..."

"Pulling away?" She reached for his hand, threaded their fingers together, and gave him a squeeze. "I assume it's because you were raped."

He flinched at the word. "No. I mean, don't get me wrong, I didn't want to have sex with her. And I was coerced into doing it, but the actual sex didn't...," he stopped and seemed to gather himself, "it's not the problem."

"Okay..." she said slowly, softly.

"It started with a bath," he said, his eyes clouding over as he went deep into his memory. His hand tightened around hers. "They'd been bathing me the whole time, but this time they shaved my face, apparently she wasn't a fan of beards," he said with a mirthless chuckle that made her grimace. "I've never had my face shaved before," he said idly. "It was strange, letting someone be so close to my throat with a razor." He held a trembling hand up to his throat as if staunching blood flow and she wondered what happened in his head with the idea of someone holding a razor there.

"Scary," she breathed, choosing to file away the idea of him being bathed like a child the entire time he'd been gone because it made her uncomfortable as she imagined it made him.

"Yes," he agreed. "And no. When I was sufficiently _prepared_ ," he spat the word, "they gave me these pajamas and sent me to a bedroom. It wasn't where she slept – later I found out she slept with a favored consort who..." He trailed off, leaving her wondering what it was he was going to say about the favored consort. Instead, he continued on about the bedroom. "There was a bed. She was just sitting in a corner of the room, waiting for me. She told me I could undress. She wasn't evil or bad or pushy, even. But I couldn't... there wasn't any fight left in me."

"It's okay," she said and squeezed his hand.

"Is it? I gave her what she wanted, she didn't have to force me. After a so long of seeing all the horrible things I'd seen, it was almost a relief to be in her bed. I took off my clothes and got in that bed and let her..." He trailed off again.

Sam let him. Hearing him recount what happened... God, she'd seen first hand what Astarte had done to him and she wasn't sure she wanted to know more. So she reminded him, "She drugged you."

"Yeah. Yeah, she did. The milk and honey stuff," he recalled, "it made me _want_ to. And when it was time, it made me hard." He didn't flinch, he said it very matter of factly. It made her not blush at the idea of him being hard even when it made the pit of her stomach clench. "But it also made things not _feel_ quite right. Or... not at all. Like, I knew she was touching me, I could feel her hands on me, but it didn't feel like it was supposed to feel."

"Did it hurt?"

"No," he said quickly, to reassure her and he squeezed her hand. "Not even the not coming, weirdly, aside from a weird sort of pressure. None of it was... _bad_. Except... the things she said to me, after everything I'd been through, it was impossible not to believe her with the way I wasn't feeling."

"What was she saying?"

"That," and then he faltered, licked his lips and tried again, "that pleasure wasn't for me anymore. That I was a tool."

"And you believed her?"

"After what I'd been through, I think I'd have believed anything."

"And... and you _still_ believe her?" she asked quietly, fearful of the answer.

He turned to look her in the eye, the insecurity was written all over his face. "I know I shouldn't. But the things I saw... Sam... you have to understand, I don't _feel_ like I deserve to feel anything good."

"Oh, Jack," she breathed.

"So when I kiss you and it turns me on, I get mad at myself for feeling that way."

"You can't help how it makes you feel. And it's... natural." And more than a little flattering, she thought, that just her kiss could turn him hard and wanting.

"I know that. But knowing it isn't enough."

"So what do you want to do about it? Would it be easier for you if we just didn't..."

He smirked at her, "No. And it sure as hell wouldn't be easier for you and we're not going to fix this that way anyhow."

"So you just want to, what? Push through it?" She could see the merit in that, she supposed, but she could also see how it was a disaster waiting to happen. But Jack O'Neill was a push through kind of guy, no reason why this would be any different.

"I guess I just want you to be patient with me."

That panicked her. "Have I not been so far? Have I pushed you? Because I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-"

"Carter! You'll remember that both times _I_ kissed _you_." The corner of his mouth curled up in a lazy half smirk.

"Well, yeah, I guess you did." She frowned a little, not sure she should bring up the man, but positive she should broach the subject of professional help. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to MacKenzie about any of this?"

He frowned comically. "I don't need MacKenzie. At most, I need you. Unless you want me to work this out by kissing him, but I guarantee you he's not going to get the same rise out of me that you are."

She swatted at him with her free hand. "Okay, okay. Point well taken even if you are being flippant about it."

He sobered. "I'm not trying to be flip. It's just... this seems to be happening... I dunno... kinda fast."

"Between us?" She questioned and waited for him to nod. "Yeah. It does. Maybe too fast."

"And I thought you deserved to know, you know, what you were getting into."

"You're afraid that you're always going to believe what she convinced you of," Sam surmised.

"Not really," he hedged, "But it could be a long time before I'm back to normal. And what do I really have to offer you?"

"Do you think, even for a moment, that this is about sex for me? That the conversation we had in your kitchen was predicated by my desire to have sex with you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "God, Carter, if you feel about me the way you say you do, then I'd hope that sex is somewhere in the mix."

She could feel herself blush. "I was always pretty careful to not let myself think that far. So far, but no farther, you know?"

"So you've never even _thought_ about..."

She shook her head. "Do you think that's strange?"

He sighed, "I guess under the circumstances, not really. But... you're thinking about it _now,_ right?"

"Peripherally," she admitted. At his curious look she continued, "Well, I'm not sitting here in the middle of a full blown fantasy."

"Ah. Right."

"Anyway, we've barely even kissed. We've got plenty of time before we need to worry about sex. And we've got plenty of time for you to get used to the idea of feeling arousal again before we need to worry about whether or not you feel..."

"… Pleasure."

"Right."

"So, now I guess it's a good thing that I'm retiring," he said, as he dropped her hand and slung an arm around her shoulders pulling her body into his.

"It is, if you're really interested in me... the way I'm interested in you."

"Like I said before, I'm not in the same place you are, this is a lot newer to me. But I know when I look at you I don't just see my second in command, not anymore. And... I... I remember being _there_ and wanting to get back home. To you."

"To me?"

"Yeah. So maybe there's more going on with me than I thought there was. I've always thought you were easy on the eyes." He squeezed her into his side tighter. "But maybe there's been more all along and my brain was just catching up."

"So... we'll just take things slow."

"Slow sounds good," he said.

"And we'll see where we end up." It was really more than she'd hoped for, his easy acquiescence into moving forward with her. Especially on top of what she'd just learned about what had happened to him. But if he was willing to try to push past it, so was she. She wondered what dealing with those mental hurdles would look like in reality and whether or not she was fully prepared to deal with them. She hadn't been lying to him when she said she hadn't allowed herself to think of a sexual relationship with him. It was going to be strange not only allowing herself to think that way but to also allow herself to act that way. She knew, though, that it wouldn't be difficult, not when he made her feel the way he made her feel with simple kisses. True, they'd only shared two and they'd both been brief, but they'd both been powerful, too and she was looking forward to more... when he was ready.

She snuggled deeper into his side, her head pillowed in the hollow of his shoulder and felt the way his arm tightened around her. "Thank you for telling me what you told me."

She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and she smiled.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack was screwing another floorboard onto his deck when he heard the telltale sound of a motorcycle in his driveway. He grinned around the screws in his mouth. He'd left her the evening before, curled up on her couch, looking impossibly young in her oversized clothing and air-dried hair, and it hadn't been easy he was exasperated to say. It had felt good to sit there with her in his arms. And the good had bled over into today and he felt, for the first time, like tackling the project that was his deck.

He continued to screw boards down while he waited for the sound of her bike to die down. When it did he took the screws out of his mouth and called out to her. "I'm around the side of the house. On the deck!"

She appeared moments later in jeans and a tank top that made him wonder first if she'd always been that thin or if she really had lost weight during all the time he'd been missing and if that moment he'd had on the tel'tak when he'd though her arm had felt thin had been true, and second what the hell she was doing riding her bike without her leathers on. He thought about saying something to her on either subject, but the bright smile on her face stopped him from either admonishment.

"Hey," she said and walked right up to him, so her shadow fell over him.

"Hey, yourself," he said and snagged her fingers tugging her down for a quick kiss that just made her smile wider and her blue eyes sparkle. He liked putting that wide smile on her face.

"You're in a good mood today," she observed.

"Holdover from yesterday. No guarantee everyday is going to be a good day, but today feels good."

"I'm glad."

"Me too."

The dreams the night before hadn't delved into the worst of the worst and he had been able to shake them off when he crawled out of bed that morning so he didn't feel it necessary to tell her about them. Especially since he really was feeling pretty damn good.

He wondered how much of that had to do with lightening his load the day before by talking to her. Or if it had anything to do with opening himself up to the possibility of a relationship with her. He wasn't naive enough to believe that a relationship was the magic cure for what ailed him, but there were things about Sam that did, undeniably, make him happy.

But she always had, even as his second in command. She'd always made him smile. She'd always made him proud. She'd always given him the sense that there was something bigger and better out beyond what he was aware of. It was that she knew so much more than he did, that she made him believe in things he couldn't understand, simply because she understood them. He trusted her. And he wasn't a man who trusted easily. SG-1 was on a short list and Sam probably topped it.

The more he thought about her the more he wondered how he ever could have thought all he had was a mild and passing attraction to her. Sure, she was gorgeous, but there was so much more to her, so much more about her and he seemed to be dialed in to all of it. Had Teal'c been right? Did he have a special bond with her that maybe he just hadn't been aware of? That maybe he'd taken for granted and been too blind to see?

"I see you're finally getting around to replacing the boards that had gone," she said gesturing at the decking.

"Almost done," he confirmed. "Two more."

"Good," she said with a sultry grin. "Because I thought maybe you'd like to go for a ride with me."

"On the bike?"

"Yeah."

He hadn't been on a motorcycle in fifteen years, and he'd never ridden behind someone. He got a sudden flash of Sam between his thighs and his hands on her waist and he realized that he wanted that. "Sounds like a good time."

Her grin turned lazy and her eyes soft. "It does."

"But I smell like a goat, so let me finish up here and grab a shower."

Playfully, she leaned down and took a deep breath of the air surrounding him. "You don't smell like a goat. You smell like you. Hot you, but you." And she looked pretty at ease with that. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks... this wasn't just any woman he was dating. This was a woman who had camped out next to him when he hadn't showered for four days. She already knew things about him that a fairly new wife wouldn't know. Maybe that was why it had been relatively easy to open up to her the day before. And maybe that was why he'd spilled his guts so thoroughly when drunk, because really, he didn't usually do that sort of thing.

"Still," he said, "a quick shower."

"Well, okay, but I kinda like it."

Something about that made him flush with embarrassment, but he wasn't sure what. And not a whole hell of a lot made him blush. Maybe it was because it seemed oddly... intimate. And intimacy wasn't something he was wholly comfortable with these days. He'd been good at intimacy at one time, but now, he wondered if it all would make him think of how he just wasn't worthy of her time and effort. He frowned and because he was looking at her he could see the moment the smile left her eyes even though it still played around her mouth.

"What?" She questioned him.

"Nothing."

"No," she said softly, slowly. "What is it? You were fine, then you weren't. What happened?"

"Just... a thought." He shook it off. He wasn't going to let his head ruin a perfectly good day. His deck was almost fixed and he had the promise of a bike ride with Sam Carter to look forward to.

"You know you can talk to me," she pressed.

"It's fine, it's not even worth talking about," he said flippantly, to prove to her that he'd put it aside.

She pushed her fingers through his sweaty hair and gave him a crooked smile. "Okay."

"Wanna hand me that board?" he asked her, pointing at a board leaning against the house. Together, they worked until the last two boards were in place and then he stood up, groaning at the change in position. "Give me ten minutes and we can hit the road."

"Sure."

He left her in the living room with the weather channel while he went and took a quick shower and redressed himself in jeans and a long sleeve shirt. It was a little hot for it, but with the wind on the ride he figured he'd be comfortable. "You ready?" He asked her as he stepped down into the living room.

She turned from where she was still standing where he left her. She gave him an appreciative once-over that left him feeling both a little proud and a little uncomfortable and he hated that there was any discomfort at all. It made him want to kill the already dead Astarte for what she'd done to him. He didn't want to have these issues. "Grab a jacket," she said cryptically. "Let's go."

Outside he was pleased to see her leather jacket thrown over the seat of her bike. He watched her put it on and zip it up even as he admired the way she looked in it, paired with the blue jeans. She handed him a helmet before she put on her own and then they were getting situated on the bike, her on first, then him, sliding into place behind her. His thighs were snug against hers, but they weren't pressed together back to chest, and for that he was glad, that might have been a little too much, to feel her ass pressed against his groin. It might have been good for a moment, but it had the potential to go bad and he didn't want that, not today. Not when his good mood was apparently precarious.

They set off out of his neighborhood and then she turned onto Pikes Peak Highway and he knew they were in for a hell of a view when they made it to the top. He'd always liked this ride in his truck, he thought it would be great on the bike and it didn't disappoint. Of course, it could have been the feel of her under his hands, the soft supple leather of her jacket against his fingertips. Or the feel of her body between his legs. Or the hum of the bike underneath him. It could have been all of it, the girl, the bike the view.

When they made it to the summit, she pulled the bike off the road and into the parking area. There were people all around, unsurprisingly, most eating lunch at picnic areas or having their pictures taken at the summit sign. It was very touristy, but he'd known it would be. The summit was, it was the drive that was the beautiful part. They wandered around for a while and then, when it was time to head back down the mountain she threw him a grin and handed him the keys to the bike.

"What's this?" he asked her.

"You've got a motorcycle license," she pointed out. "Wanna drive?"

He laughed. "Hell yeah, Carter."

He took his place on the bike and she climbed on behind him and snugged herself right up against his back. He could feel her, warm against him, and it made him tingle in all the interesting place. And then she threaded an arm around his waist and splayed her hand on his belly. He felt himself begin to grow hard. He cursed himself, just from the feel of her hand on his belly? For god's sake. Really? For a long moment he didn't do anything and then he heard her voice in his ear. "Is this okay?"

He took a deep breath and tried to reason with himself that it was good that things she did turned him on. It was good that his body was so responsive to her. That she had no idea what she'd done to him and that she wasn't about to ask him to perform so it didn't matter what had just happened to his body. And that, above all else, he was allowed to feel the way he was feeling and that it wasn't going to end in some long, drawn out experience of nothingness. "Yeah, it's okay," he finally said to her.

She tapped her fingers on his belly a couple of times in acknowledgement and then he was kick-starting the bike to life. It took a good hour and a half to make the ride down the mountain but it was a good ride. He got used to the feel of her body, began to revel in it, identified the press of her breasts against his back, especially when she'd lean forward to point something out to him. At some point she wrapped both arms around him and he leaned back into her a little and he felt the way she squeezed him a little tighter.

By the time they got back to his house he realized, "The bike ride was on purpose, wasn't it? The touching?"

"I wasn't trying to pressure you, I just thought it would be safe."

He pulled her into his arms so they were finally touching face to face. "It was."

"There were a couple of bad moments today."

He couldn't get anything past her. "Yeah."

"But you worked through them."

Instead of answering her, he dipped his head and captured her lips in a kiss. She sighed against his mouth so he opened up to her. She flicked her tongue against his, teasing him just a little but he wasn't having it. He deepened the kiss, slanting his head and grasping her head between his hands to maneuver her just the way he wanted. She moaned and the sound went directly to his groin and for the first time it didn't cause him pause. He pressed his arousal into her as he stroked her tongue with his own and reveled in the little guttural sounds she was making.

A car drove by and he realized, suddenly, that he was making out with her while standing in his driveway. He pulled away from her slowly, her eyes fluttered open. "Wow," she breathed.

So, that was what it could be like, when he wasn't running from it. Wow, indeed. "Want to come inside?"

"Yes," she said honestly. "But I'd probably better not. Or we'll do more of that and maybe we'll push things too far. Slow, remember?"

"But that went really well," he pointed out.

"Yes," she said with a sly grin, "it did."

"But you're still not coming inside, are you?"

She shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He pressed a chaste kiss to her closed lips. "I'll see you soon."

"Yes, you will," she promised.


	19. Part 3 - Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No your eyes don't deceive you, you're getting two chapters in as many days. Thank the fangirls on twitter for the begging. :)

It was an adjustment, getting used to life under the mountain without Colonel O'Neill, but she was adapting. It helped that SG-1 was still on stand-down. She didn't think she'd be doing so well if they were going out on missions without him or with someone in his place.

As it was, she hadn't seen him since their bike ride the previous Sunday, but she had talked to him on the phone every night when she'd gotten home from work. Either she'd call him or he'd call her and they'd just chat, mostly about nothing. He hadn't opened up anymore about what had happened to him on Astarte's planet.

But it was Friday evening, and she wasn't due on base again until Monday and she fully intended to spend the better part of the weekend with her... _what_? Boyfriend? Seemed an odd thing to call him, all things considered, but they were seeing each other and she definitely wasn't seeing anyone else and neither was he.

Of course, until his retirement was finalized, the fact that they were seeing each other was strictly between the two of them. Not even Daniel or Teal'c had been let in on the development, despite the fact that they obviously knew of her feelings for the man. It was just all around safer for both of them if there was no hint of impropriety wafting around either one of their careers, even if his was essentially over. It still mattered greatly for hers as she still had plenty of upward mobility and she'd have enough of a fight on her hands when the rumor mill got started up after word of her relationship with her former CO got out. So no, she was in no hurry to broadcast her change in status.

Besides, it was kind of nice to keep it between the two of them. It was new and fragile, especially considering the circumstances, and it felt like there was less undue outside pressure on the whole thing if other people didn't know.

She put the finishing touches on her outfit, a simple ensemble of jeans and a blue silk blouse, before slipping on some sandals and grabbing her car keys and slipping out the front door. He wasn't expecting her, but she was anxious to see him after five days apart. And he'd sounded so good all week that really, she thought that maybe he'd turned a corner and the angry version of himself that they'd rescued from the planet, maybe, had become a thing of the past.

And then she knocked on his door. He answered it with a tumbler in his hand and a dark look in his eye. Immediately she felt her stomach clench and the expectant smile slid off her face. "Bad day?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

"I'm not in the mood for company tonight." He didn't sound completely unkind and she knew he was trying.

"Maybe tonight is the night you really do need the company," she countered.

"Carter-"

"Really," she pressed. "You don't have to tell me anything new. Let me just sit down and have a drink with you."

He looked at her crossways. "You want to drink with me?"

"I want to have _a_ drink with you."

He huffed. "Come on in."

She followed him into the house and into the kitchen where he poured her a couple of fingers of whiskey over ice. She tried not to be disappointed that he didn't touch her, that there was no hug or kiss hello. She chalked it up to his brain being back somewhere on P3R-289 and she wasn't going to push him. She'd promised him slow and she'd already invaded his space tonight, that was enough.

Drinks in hand, they settled onto the couch. Sam kicked her sandals off and curled up on the couch facing him so that her back was to the arm of the couch and her feet were near him. They sat quietly for a long time until he reached out and ran his finger down the arch of her foot. She resisted the urge to jerk the extremity away with the way it tickled, just glad to have his hands on her someway, somehow. His finger was cold from the condensation on his glass and it made goosebumps spring up in the wake of his finger, all the way up her leg. She shivered, but it might have been, also, just from the effect of having his hand on her.

Next, he covered the whole of her foot with his hand and squeezed, his cool palm chilling her foot and toes. She flexed her foot in his hand and he squeezed again, then trailed his hand up to her ankle and banded it around the joint. She was thankful she'd shaved her legs despite not knowing he was going to have his hands on her in such a way.

It was odd for him to be touching her this way and still no words being exchanged between them. But after long, long minutes, long after his hand had warmed to the temperature of her skin, he cleared his throat. "I'm glad you're here."

"Yeah?"

"I'd have just gotten drunk if you didn't show up."

"It doesn't solve anything."

"It's a temporary fix," he admitted. "I took a nap today. And I dreamed."

Ah. So that's what had happened. "Bad dreams."

"They're all bad anymore," he confessed.

"Do you want to tell me about them?"

"Fuck," he spat. "No."

"Okay," she said soothingly and settled her hand over his on her ankle.

"Just... tell me about your day."

She did. She told him about the three new devices she'd gotten her hands on and how she'd gotten two of them to do exactly what Daniel thought they were supposed to do and how the third one seemed different than anything they'd ever seen before. So different, in fact, that Daniel had no idea where even to start on translating the information that had been found around it. She talked on and on until his eyes slipped closed and the hand that was holding his drink steady on his thigh had begun to go lax.

She carefully took the drink from his hand and set it on the coffee table. She wasn't tired, but he clearly was, and she wasn't ready to leave him just yet. So she took a chance and curled into his side. He wound an arm around her and pulled her in tight. It made her smile. She looked at the clock on the wall. It was several hours before midnight still but clearly between the emotional toll his day had taken and the alcohol he was down for the count.

For a while she just enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms, she was thankful he hadn't turned her away despite the fact that it was clear, when she arrived, that he hadn't wanted company. But he'd made an exception for her and she was grateful.

She'd been lying there for maybe a half an hour when she felt him jerk underneath her and groan. She reached up to put a palm on his cheek and the rest happened so fast she could scarcely believe how she ended up on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, with Jack above her, his hand tight around her throat.

She panicked momentarily but then the wild look started to dissipate from his eyes almost immediately and his breathing began to slow and soon after that the tight grip around her throat began to loosen and she was able to take a breath. She figured it had been thirty seconds, maybe forty-five, during which he'd had her in his hold.

He scrambled back and up off her, looking mortified. She propped herself up on her elbows so she could see him but also stayed put to give him his space.

"Are you okay?" were the first words out of his mouth when he was finally able to speak.

"I'm fine," she said evenly. So maybe her voice was a little hoarse, but it was nothing that wouldn't pass in a short while.

"What happened?"

"I think you were dreaming. I touched you. I shouldn't have."

"I could have killed you."

"Maybe," she conceded, though it would have taken more than a sleep addled Colonel to really hurt her, and if he was thinking straight he'd remember that, "but you didn't even hurt me." She got up off the floor and crossed the room to him.

He raised his hand to her throat. "You're going to have bruises."

She shrugged. "I'm fine, really."

"I was dreaming about Iraq," he said softly, as if confessing to a crime.

She raised her hand to his cheek, laid her hand again where she had before he'd flipped her up and over and onto the floor so lightning fast. This time he allowed the touch, fully awake and cognizant of her. "Did you ever hurt Sara, after you got back home?"

He shook his head, "No, though I don't know how I avoided it."

"Because you're strong."

"Not strong enough. Look at what I just did to you. And it could have been a lot worse."

"But it wasn't. And remember, I know how to take care of myself, too."

"I didn't see you trying to protect yourself from me just then," he accused.

"Because you weren't hurting me, I could see in your eyes you were letting me go. I promise, if it had gone on, I'd have fought you."

He suddenly gathered her into his arms and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She could feel his lips against her skin, warm, and it sent shockwaves to the center of her. He pressed his lips against her, then she could feel his tongue against the skin of her neck, she gasped. She realized he was laving the place where his thumb had pressed into her. "Oh, Jack," she breathed and sunk her hand into his hair to direct his face to hers.

She kissed him deeply, to prove to him that what he had done had left no lingering doubts or resentments within her. He skimmed his hands down her body leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He grasped her hips and pulled her body flush against his so she could feel the way he was growing hard against her. It never ceased to amaze her how ardently he reacted to her kiss. He wound his arms around her back and ended up with one hand full of her ass, she could feel everyone one of his fingertips like he was fire.

He pulled back from the kiss. "Would you stay tonight?"

She looked at him sharply, her eyes wide. "Stay?"

"On the couch," he reassured. "It seemed to help, last time, knowing you were in the house when I woke up."

"Oh," she took a deep breath, that was half reassuring half disappointment, "sure."

"I'll even give you something to sleep in this time so you don't get your clothes all wrinkled. I'll take you to breakfast in the morning."

She smiled. "That sounds nice."

"I really am sorry."

"I knew better, it's not your fault."

"Sam, if I hurt you, no matter the circumstances, it's my fault. Don't try to talk me out of that one."

She took in the serious look on his face and realized he was dead set on what he was saying. This was a Jack O'Neill constant and there wasn't going to be any convincing him different. "Okay," she finally relented.

"Now, I'll go get you something to sleep in."

"Something warm," she requested.

He threaded his fingers into her hair and pulled her in for one more kiss before leaving her in the living room to go and get her nightclothes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack stayed in bed until he heard the television come on in the living room. It wasn't that he wasn't anxious to see her, it was that he wasn't anxious to see the tell-tale purple bruise around her throat that would be a reminder of how close he'd come to doing some real damage to her. As it was he was already worried about how she was going to explain the marks when she got to the mountain on Monday. Surely they wouldn't have faded completely by then. Daniel or Teal'c would notice, maybe even one or both of them would deduce that Jack had made them. And then where would he be?

She'd been understanding about what had happened. More understanding than he deserved. He could have really hurt her. Could still really hurt her. He'd been honest with her when he'd told her he wasn't sure how he'd managed not to hurt Sara. He'd known lots of guys who had hurt their wives or girlfriends and it wasn't something they did on purpose. It happened with them the same way it had happened the night before with Sam. It was just by the grace of whoever that he'd managed to not mount an all out attack when he'd launched himself at her from his sleep.

With a groan he climbed out of bed. Out of deference to the woman in his living room he'd slept in sweats and a t-shirt, very similar to the ones he'd handed her the night before. He made his way out to the living room and found her sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee watching a twenty-four hour news network, dressed in the clothes she'd come over in the night before. In the low light he couldn't see if he'd marked her or not.

"Good morning," he said, his voice rough from disuse.

"Good morning," she replied sweetly, a soft smile touching her lips.

He crossed the room to her, sat down on the couch next to her. "Let me see," he requested.

She didn't pretend to not know what he was referencing. She clicked on the lamp next to the couch and then bared her neck to him. He exhaled roughly. He _had_ marked her.

"Jack," she said carefully, reaching out to put a hand on his forearm, "I'm fine. The bruise will fade."

"Not before people see it."

"We don't have to go to breakfast," she offered.

"I meant Daniel or Teal'c."

"Oh. Well..." She blew air out through pursed lips. "What would you like me to do about that?"

"You're asking me? I did that to you. I have no say in what happens next."

"If you'd done it to hurt me, I'd agree. I can cover the marks with makeup," she told him. "No one has to know."

He reached out and trailed a finger over the bruise left by his thumb. "I'll know."

"I think we need to also accept that if we don't hide the marks we also don't hide that things between us are changing. And right now, for both our sakes, it's important that we not rock the boat."

"Maybe it would be best if we didn't make any changes until my retirement was fully processed," he said then and tried to ignore the stricken look on her face. "It would keep us out of potential trouble and it would give me more time to sort through what happened to me and potentially keep you safer."

"Is that what you want?" she asked quietly after a few moments.

He could honestly say no, that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted her now that he'd had a taste of her. "It might be better all around."

"That's not what I asked."

He couldn't lie to her. "No," he said softly, "it's not what I want."

"Well, it's not what I want, either. But I do feel better knowing we're both going into this with our eyes wide open. That we both understand we're breaking some regs. Even if you are on your way out the door."

"It's the reason why we're going to be discreet."

"And it's one of the reasons we're going to take things slow," she said.

"The other reason being that I'm fucked up," he groused.

"Jack," she admonished.

"Well, I am."

"You're not. You've been through a lot, yes. And yes, there are some lingering issues, but you're doing remarkably well considering."

"I'm not. I'm not doing well at all. I've made you think I'm doing well, but I'm not, Carter."

She looked at him, stricken, sad. "Please don't feel like you have to lie to me."

"It's not you I'm lying to. Not you personally, anyway."

"There are going to be a lot more bad days," she surmised.

"I think so."

"You don't have to do it alone," she told him, reaching for his hand.

For the first time he felt like maybe that was true. Even the first times he'd dealt with the demons Astarte had brought back up, he'd always felt like he was the kind of guy who had to go it alone – even when he'd had his folks, even when he'd had Sara. Sam was the first person in his life who made him feel like he had a teammate, someone on his side, someone who truly understood him. Maybe it was because of what they had been through together, maybe it was just because they fit, he didn't know, but he did know he didn't feel so alone.

He squeezed her hand. "I want to take you to breakfast. If you don't mind going out with the marks on your neck. People might give you funny looks."

"I don't care. If you don't."

"I think... I think I can handle it."

"Good. Then get dressed and take me to breakfast," she said with authority in her voice and a smile on her face.

He couldn't help but smile back. "Yes ma'am."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Breakfast might have gone well, but the bad dream on Friday night was a harbinger of things to come. It was an all around tough weekend for him and he struggled. Sam did her best to be there for him but she felt like she was coming up short at every turn. By Sunday night they were both exhausted.

"You should just go home," he told her after a particularly emotional recollection of his father's suicide. "You've got to work tomorrow."

She looked at the clock on the wall. It was getting late, but it wasn't quite there yet. She shrugged and shook her head at him. "There's nowhere I have to be right now."

"I'm exhausted," he said, wiping a hand over his face.

"C'mon," she said standing and holding a hand out to him.

"Where are we going?"

"You're going to bed."

"You coming with me?" He asked her, rather boldly, she thought.

But they both knew why she was shepherding him to bed. The night before she'd sent him off on his own and he'd spent more than half the night standing in front of his bedroom window, staring out, with the weight of his world on his shoulders. "Do I need to?" she asked him.

"I don't know," he said tiredly. "Maybe."

The idea of lying down next to him did funny things to her stomach, but if that was what he needed then she'd do it.

In his bedroom she picked up the t-shirt and sweatpants that were on the floor next to the bed and turned the t-shirt right side out. She watched him strip off his button down shirt and take the t-shirt from her, all the while a fire was lit in her belly but she didn't fan the flames. He was a sight to behold, sure, but he trusted her and she wasn't going to give him any reason, not the first moment, for pause. When his hands dropped to his waistband she felt herself blush and she presented him with her back. She held the sweatpants out behind her until he took them and then she gave him another moment before turning back around to find him fully dressed in his night clothes.

He slid into bed between the sheets, his eyes on her the whole time. She stood there, watching him, silently begging him to get comfortable, to find ease, to find sleep. "What do you need?" She asked him.

"Can you just... stay for a little while?"

There was a soft, comfortable looking chair in the corner of his room that had a pair of jeans thrown over the arm. "Sure," she said. She took a step in the direction of the chair and he stopped her.

"Here," he said. "With me."

"Oh. Okay." The funny things were happening in her stomach again.

She walked around to the other side of the bed and contemplated it for a moment before climbing on top of the blankets and settling down on her side with her hand propping up her head. He rolled over onto his back, tucked his hands up under his head, and stared at a fixed point on the ceiling.

She thought for a while that maybe he wanted to talk, but as the minutes stretched on it became clear that he didn't. She didn't know why she was there, really. He was staring, unseeing, at the ceiling, she could see in the moonlight filtering in the window that his eyes weren't closed. Finally, for lack of knowing what to do to help him, she placed her free hand on his belly. Immediately, he covered it with a hand of his own and she knew she'd chosen a right thing. But still, his eyes didn't close.

"I'm not gonna sleep," he finally said. It must have been after twenty minutes of them lying there silently. "You should just go home."

She sighed and scootched close to him so she was pressed against his side and reached over him to switch on his alarm clock. "What time is it set for?"

"Oh five hundred."

"Fine." She settled herself down so her head was in the hollow of his shoulder and her hand was on his chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, though he sounded more amused than anything else.

"I'm sleeping over."

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in... I don't know... not those clothes?"

"Probably. But I'm not giving you a chance to talk either one of us out of this."

He chuckled. "Okay." He sobered quickly, though. "Promise me... if I try to hurt you..."

"I'll fight you."

"Good girl," he said and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

They lay there until she was nearly asleep herself when she heard him whisper, "Thank you."

She turned her head and pressed a kiss into his chest. "You're welcome."


	20. Part 3 - Chapter 19

Jack awoke to the sound of his alarm clock for the first time in a while and he decided he preferred waking naturally and that retirement was sounding better and better. Then he remembered why he was waking up to an alarm clock and he searched the bed for Sam. He found her curled up in a ball on the other side of the bed looking chilled. He felt bad, suddenly, because she'd gone to sleep the night before on top of the blankets, he was sure because she didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Add that to the fact that she'd slept in her jeans and he was feeling like a down right heel.

He'd wanted her to stay. He just hadn't really known how to ask her. Hadn't known how to tell her he wanted her in his bed. Hadn't known how to tell her he wanted it but was scared of it at the same time. So when she'd offered to stay the night and had said she wasn't changing because she didn't want him to talk her out of it, he'd taken her at face value knowing that was exactly what he'd have done.

Except now she didn't look very comfortable. And something about her curled up over there left him feeling off-center.

The sound of his alarm must have filtered into her sleep because she began to rouse. He smacked at the alarm until it turned off and then he rolled back over until he was hovering over her slightly. She rolled over onto her back and found him looking at her. "Good morning," she said sleepily.

"Morning."

"Did you sleep?"

"Some. The alarm woke me."

"Good."

He flopped onto his back and reached out and grabbed her, hauling her to him until she was sprawled over him much as she had started out the night before. "Good morning," she said again, with a giggle.

"It helps, you being here."

She sobered instantly and smoothed her hand across his chest. "I'm glad."

"Stay tonight?"

"Okay," she said simply.

He wasn't sure what he expected but it wasn't easy acquiescence. He kind of thought he was going to have to convince her. But then he remembered, this was Sam, his teammate, someone who truly understood him. He didn't have to explain or wonder if she understood, because she did. She just... did. "Thanks."

"But now I have to get up and go home to get ready for work."

"Are you at least going to kiss me good morning?" he asked, teasingly.

"Are you at least going to let me brush my teeth?" she answered back.

He groaned. "All right, all right." He pushed himself up out of bed, jostling her in the process. In his bathroom he unearthed a brand new toothbrush for her and they stood side by side brushing their teeth, exchanging glances in the mirror. When they were done, he barely let her dry her face before he took her in his arms. "Better?"

"Much."

"Now you'll kiss me?"

"Now I'll kiss you."

He grinned at her and leaned forward to capture her lips with his. It was a slow, soft, early morning kiss. It was mostly lips and a little tongue flicking against his straight, white teeth. It was her hands in his hair and his hands on her hips and their chests pressed together. It was their toes flirting with each other, hers in socks, his bare. When he'd had his fill of her mouth – when he needed a breath, he'd never have his fill of her mouth – he dipped his face into the crook of her neck and breathed in the warm scent of her that was overlaid with the scent of his bed and he decided he liked the smell of them together.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and they stood there for a while just holding one another until, finally, she told him, "I really have to go now."

"I know," he said into her skin before he pulled back to look into her blue, blue eyes.

"I'll come back. As soon as I'm done at the mountain."

"Make it an early day," he said and hoped it didn't sound too pleading, hoped he didn't sound too much like he needed her with him.

"I'll do my best," she said with a warm smile.

When she left he wandered around like a lost puppy for a while until, finally, he rolled his eyes at himself and kicked himself into gear. Sure, he missed her – he'd been with her for two and a half days straight – but he was a big boy and he could function without her around. Could function just fine, thank you very much.

He went out to the garage and got the lawn mower out. It took him a couple of hours to cut the grass and another couple to edge and weedeat the property. Another couple after that to trim the hedges. At some point he had stopped and run into town for a little lunch. By mid afternoon, though, he was done with his yard and he knew he had at least two and a half hours until she showed back up and he was feeling a little lost again.

He sat himself down and had a real hard think about what was going on. Why was he feeling so forlorn without Sam around? Was it because he'd had such an emotional weekend and she'd really been like a balm to his soul? Perhaps. It hadn't been an angry sort of weekend, though he'd had those moments, too. He'd railed at her at one point, simply because she'd been there. And she'd stood there and taken the brunt of his anger, then had wrapped him in her arms and kissed his temple and told him that she wasn't leaving while he trembled with anger. He'd feared himself in that moment but she hadn't feared him.

She trusted him implicitly and he didn't know if that was a good thing. In a way, it made him want to live up to that trust, but in another he knew he'd never be able to. He now lived in fear of being the one to bring death and destruction into her life. It was one of the main reasons he was retiring – to keep her and the rest of SG-1 safe. Or, safer, anyway. He was a liability now.

But still, she trusted him not to hurt her and he endeavored not to. He was terrified that he was going to do to her again what he'd already done, or worse. Having her sleep next to him was doing little more than tempting fate, but he was selfish and weak and having her next to him really did seem to help keep the demons at bay. Though, something about the way they'd woken up that morning niggled at the back of his head as not-quite-right, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

The dreams didn't come as readily the night before. Of course, sleep hadn't come very readily either. But he hadn't been sleeping much unless he was drunk anyway. Sober, he'd sleep just a few hours and the dreams, oh the dreams. But the night before they hadn't been heinous. They'd been more garden-variety bad and less Astarte-prison-torture bad. He hadn't woken up with his hand around her throat in any event. Hadn't woken up at all, save for the alarm.

He'd dreamed about Astarte's prison, about the girls who came and fed him and bathed him. He'd dreamed about the reality of his time in captivity rather than about the things he'd been made to remember via the Blood of Sokar. So the dreams, yes they'd been bad, but they hadn't been awful.

So, yes, having her around did seem to help and, yes, he was selfish enough to want her by his side even though it might not be the safest place for her. He'd exploit her trust in him, because it was what he needed. And she'd allow it because, again, it was what he needed. And she was very much about what he needed these days.

He wondered what she needed. She hadn't fully processed her killing of Astarte, he knew. She'd tamped it down so she wouldn't have to deal with it. But soon, she'd have to. He'd made a career of killing for a while and he knew what it did to the soul. Eventually, she'd have to reckon with it. He just hoped he'd be as helpful to her as she'd been to him. Would she turn to him when she needed? Or would she think he was capable of taking but not giving?

Was he capable of giving? He didn't really know. Did he have anything to give her besides the mess that was inside him? He hoped so. There was happiness still inside him. He'd been able to tap into it with her. Maybe, where that happiness resided also lived something helpful, something meaningful, something giving.

He was ruminating on that, standing in the kitchen, beer in hand, when she walked through his front door. "Jack?"

"In here," he called, readying himself to be confronted by the object of his thoughts. He'd turned a little maudlin in the hours he'd been thinking.

She appeared looking weary and that's when he realized it was dark outside. Far more hours had passed than he'd realized. He'd expected her back much earlier. "It's late," he said.

"I'm so sorry – gate trouble. I'd have called, but I was up to my elbows in dialing protocols. And the General was not having a good day."

"It's okay. I was going to cook dinner, but I got lost in thought."

She looked at him, concerned. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he brushed it off, "fine."

"I'm too tired to eat anyway," she said.

He frowned, "You have to eat." She wasn't going to be skipping any meals on his watch.

"All I want is a hot shower." That was when he noticed the overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

"Use my bathroom," he told her, unsure of the last time the spare bathroom had even been cleaned. "I'll order..."

She considered it for a moment, "Chinese?"

"Chinese," he said, as if it had been his idea all along.

"I won't be long."

"Take your time," he told her, both so that she could relax and also so that he could shake off the last of his mood. She was back, it was time to enjoy her.

While she showered he did order their food and tried not think of her in the shower. He was surprised to find himself drifting to thoughts of her, nude, water sluicing down her body. Those thoughts were far more sexual than he would have imagined himself capable of all things considered. But he was thinking them, nonetheless. Picturing her body, warm and pink, soft and pliant, slick and slippery.

She emerged from the back of the house just moments after dinner arrived, dressed once more in leggings and a long sleeve t-shirt, her wet hair hanging loosely around her head. He really, really liked that look on her. It reminded him of that afternoon at her house when he'd stopped by and things between them had begun to change.

"Feel better?"

"Yes, I do. And I'm actually hungry now."

"Good. Because I ordered enough food to feed Teal'c. Force of habit." And a little bit in hopes of enticing her to eat more than she might usually. He was really beginning to notice that she was significantly thinner than he really remembered her being.

She laughed. It made him smile.

And like a ton of bricks it hit him why he'd felt off kilter earlier when they'd woken up and then later when he thought about it. The timing was weird, but he couldn't help it. The first morning when he'd gone out and woken her up from where she'd spent the night on his couch he'd found her cuddling his throw pillow. He'd determined her to be a cuddler. Then, he wakes up with her in bed, curled up on the opposite side of things by herself. Why hadn't he awoken with Carter cuddled up to him? Had he done something to her in the night?

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" she asked him, already pulling takeout containers out of the paper bag they were delivered in.

"Did you sleep okay last night?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I didn't hurt you?"

"No. _Why?_ "

"You were about as far from me on the bed as you could get this morning."

"Oh," she said quietly, "that."

"Yeah. That."

"I was afraid of doing something that would make you uncomfortable. I didn't want to be the cause of a flashback or a nightmare."

"But... I laid awake for hours and you were with me the whole time. I went to sleep sometime, and when I woke up you were gone. Are you sure I didn't do anything to you?"

She bit her lip and stopped pulling boxes out of the bag. "You were mumbling in your sleep. You said 'no' and 'stop'."

"I was dreaming about them bathing me," he confessed. "It wasn't about you touching me."

"I just want to do the right thing."

"Even I don't know what the right thing is, Carter," he pointed out. "But I know it's not you on the wrong side of the bed."

"Are you a close sleeper, or do you just think I am?" she asked him.

"Well, I guess I am," he reckoned. "But you are, too. I saw you with the pillow on the couch..."

"The pillow?"

"You were holding the pillow to you..."

She blushed prettily. "Probably because it smelled like you. I don't need to be all over you if I'm in your bed."

"I like you being close."

"As long as it's not pushing you too far too fast."

"It's not."

"Okay."

"Let's eat," he said, clapping his hands together.

He was pleased with the amount of food she put on her plate but not with the amount she actually ate but he couldn't bring himself to say anything to her about it. He just ate the last of the sweet and sour chicken off her plate with his fork while she picked at the mixed vegetables with her chopsticks.

Soon after dinner she was making little tired noises and he got the hint – it was time for bed. He walked through the house turning off lights and locking doors and met up with her in the master bathroom where she was already brushing her teeth. It made his stomach clench in the good way to have her there, in his bathroom, getting ready for bed. It reminded him of being married. He'd been really good at being married. And he'd enjoyed it. He was just a married kind of guy.

As she finished, he was rubbing his hand over his chin contemplating a shave before bed. If he waited until morning his beard would be long enough that it would be a pain in the ass, but if he shaved tonight, it would delay going to bed with her. Dilemmas dilemmas.

She turned, leaned one hip against the counter and gave him a serious look.

"What?"

"Thinking about shaving?" she asked him.

"Yeah..."

"Let me?"

"Let you?" Let her what? Then his eyes went wide with understanding. "Let you _shave_ me?"

"Yes," she said, her voice nonchalant, her eyes anything but.

He considered her carefully for long moments. Thought about what it might be like to have her drag a razor across his skin. Did he trust her not to hurt him? Implicitly. That wasn't the problem at all. Could he manage the sensations without going back to the time and place of the last experience? Did he want to try to overwrite one experience with another? Yes, he decided. Yes, he did. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

He nodded once. He patted the counter next to the sink and she obediently hopped up into place. He stood in front of the sink. He got his razor out of the drawer and laid it on the counter next to her thigh. Next he pulled out a bottle of shaving oil and handed it to her then stood in front of her expectantly, his hands behind his back, a small smile playing about his lips.

She looked at the bottle dubiously. "What's this?"

"Shaving oil."

"Shaving oil?"

"Yep."

"So, this first?"

"Yep."

She looked at the bottle scientifically then turned it over and, he chuckled, read the instructions, before opening it and pouring a few drops into her palm. She rubbed her hands together and then reached for him and smoothed her hands over the stubbly portions of his face. Her hands were warm on his skin and she smelled like her underneath the cedarwood of the oil and it was already a completely different experience than he'd had on the planet.

After she was done with the oil he handed her a washcloth and she wiped her hands off. He took that washcloth and ran hot water over it. When it was nice and warm, he wrung it out and put it over his face, reveling in the warmth of the cloth. He kept his eyes fixed on her face, she watched him with big, wide eyes that were soft in the harsh lighting of the bathroom.

Next, he handed her a can of shaving cream. "You want me to do this part, too?" she asked, clearly a little amused.

"Yep."

"Okay," she said, a ghost of a smile on her face.

She sprayed some of the foam into her hand and then gently, very gently, began applying it to his face. When she was pleased enough with her handiwork he waited for her to rinse her hands in the sink before he filled it up with cool water for her to rinse the blade in.

She picked up the razor. He stepped forward so he was in between her knees, he could feel her pressing into his hips on either side. "Are you ready?" she asked quietly.

"Go ahead."

She swallowed, then nodded and started with his right cheek. It was an odd sensation, to feel the blade moving over his skin but to not be in control of it. He watched in the mirror as she made the stroke, then watched as she leaned over and rinsed the blade. She repeated her actions again and again. He rested his hands lightly on her thighs.

As she dragged the blade up his neck to his jaw he realized how intimate an act they were sharing. It was sensual, the rasp of the blade over his whiskers, her knees pressed into his hips, his hands on her, her breath on his face, her body so close to his, the trust he'd placed in her. He felt himself begin to harden. He hadn't expected that. He never expected it and it seemed to happen so easily with her. He made a sound in the back of his throat.

She jerked the razor away from him. "What? Did I cut you?"

He hummed. "No. Keep going." He sunk his fingers into the flesh of her thighs.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," he said gruffly.

She murmured her assent and set the blade back to his skin. As she worked he felt himself become more and more aroused by her closeness and what they were sharing. The feelings she was evoking in him were overshadowing his memories of the last time he'd been shaven. He could remember the other girls, the straight razor scraping along his neck, the feeling of dread he'd had despite their gentle, attentive nature. Sam was gentle and attentive, too.

She leaned over to rinse the razor again and he looked down at her, noticed her nipples hard against her t-shirt. Apparently the experience was getting to her as well. But instead of making him feel better, it opened a pit of panic in his belly. He had a sudden and very real flash to the last time this had happened to him and what had been expected of him next and he took a deliberate step back from her.

"Jack?" she asked, razor hanging in the air.

"Just, gimme a minute."

"Okay," she said soothingly, apparently keying in to his tone.

She didn't seem to care that she was turned on, he noticed. She wasn't conducting herself any differently. She certainly didn't seem to expect anything from him. Most importantly, she wasn't Astarte, and she'd _never_ use him the way the other woman had. He took a step forward, back between her knees. "Okay."

She put her free hand on his waist. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm ready."

"All right." She continued on. But his arousal had been somewhat abated by his panic, which was nice. But, at the same time, he sort of missed the pleasurable feeling. It still didn't sit right with him, it still felt like something that didn't quite belong to him, but that didn't mean he didn't sort of like it. It was, after all, pleasure. It didn't just stop feeling good just because it wasn't yours to have anymore.

Sort of like how he'd kind of fudged things with Sam when he'd said the drugs Astarte gave him had made it so he didn't feel. It wasn't that he didn't _feel,_ it was that he didn't feel what he needed to to make him come. But he found he couldn't talk in too much detail about it with her. Not yet. It was strange enough saying the word 'come' to her in that context without going into great detail about why he hadn't been able to. In truth, he'd been able to feel the pleasurable sensations of sex just fine, but the ultimate pleasure of release had been denied to him. And therein had been the lesson. He just didn't know how to tell her that.

He pulled his focus back to Sam and what she was doing. He wanted to get back to that soft, sort of sensual place he'd been and she still had half his face to go, so he thought it was possible that he could get there. She was certainly taking her time, being thorough and, most importantly, being careful and considerate. He watched her face as she made the next swipe of the razor. She held her bottom lip between her teeth in the most adorable way and it made him want to kiss her. He was finding a lot of things made him want to kiss her.

He concentrated on the feeling of the blade scraping across his skin. He looked into her blue eyes to find her completely focused on her task, her eyes fixed on the next swath of skin she was attacking. It felt a bit heady to be under that kind of scrutiny and, once more, he felt the latent arousal pick up. It wasn't the shaving, per se, he realized. It was her. It was being the object of her intense concentration. It was being her entire world for even a small span of time. To be everything to such an amazing person... he felt himself grow dizzy with the concept and, once more, he set his hands down on her thighs only this time for balance. He felt blood rush to his groin with his realization. It was sexy as all hell to be the locus of the mind of this woman.

He exhaled so roughly it ruffled her bangs. She blinked rapidly and shifted her eyes to his. "You okay? I'm almost done."

"I'm fine. This is just... more intense than I thought it would be."

"Yeah," she said softly, "me too."

Slowly, she finished the job. When she was done, she took the wet washcloth from before and wiped the remaining bits of shaving cream from his face, though she had been so thorough he could see in the mirror that there was hardly any at all. Still, he stood in front of her with his hands on her thighs. She dropped the washcloth onto the counter next to her and placed her hands flat on his chest. "So. Was that okay?"

He nodded slowly. "Almost completely."

"Want to talk about the almost part?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Not right now."

She gave him a half smile. "Okay." She leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. He allowed it for a long moment before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her body into his and slanting his lips over her for the kind of kiss that his arousal dictated. He knew she could feel him hard between her legs. He could feel her heat. But she didn't say or do anything other than kiss the daylights out of him. Her tongue matched his thrust for thrust, caress for caress. They dueled for dominance, neither one winning for long.

He could feel her hands against his chest, her fingertips pressing into him, before she slid them around his back to hold him more firmly to her. Still, he kissed her hungrily, like if he stopped one or both of them would suddenly realize that maybe they were taking things a bit too far or too fast, with their arousals pressing together the way they were, and their mouths doing no less than fucking. The thought made him press his hips into hers and she gasped, then mewled into his mouth. The sound was like fuel to his fire and he wanted to hear it again so repeated the action and got a hiss out of her.

She wrenched her mouth from his and pulled back looking at him with glassy, curious eyes.

"Whoa," he said, for lack of anything else to say.

"Yeah."

"I... didn't know I had that in me."

"Me either, but I'm glad to know you do," she said, then blushed.

"Me too. But... too fast."

"Yeah."

"Besides," he tossed out at her. "You haven't even thought about it," he said with a sly grin.

"I _hadn't_ thought about it."

The grin slid off his face. "Does that mean you've thought about it now?"

"Well... yeah." She rushed forward, "But that doesn't mean I'm expecting anything." She put her hands back on his chest. "There's no rush. For anything."

"I'm just... I'm not ready."

"That's fine."

"I feel ridiculous," he said, and raked a hand through his hair. "I'm almost fifty years old. And I'm _not ready_ to have sex?"

"Even if you hadn't just... been through what you've been through... things between us are still really new," she pointed out. "You don't have to be ready yet."

"It's not you, it's the... everything else."

"Okay."

"I just want you to know... I think I've always wanted you at least a little bit."

She ducked her head with a smile. "Well, that's flattering, I think."

"Not that I'd have ever done anything about it if-"

"I know," she said quickly, cutting him off.

"I've always found you attractive," he said, pulling his hands around to her hips.

She sunk her fingers into the hair at his temple. "I've always found you attractive, too."

He smirked at her, "Yeah?"

"From the very first day," she admitted with a shy smile.

"And still you never even once thought about..."

"I thought about kissing you. A lot. After the Broca Virus. But it was too dangerous to let myself want you that badly. So I never allowed it."

"Didn't seem to keep the feelings from developing though, did it?" he asked her gently.

"No. My plan seems to have backfired."

"Well, it's all worked out now."

"In my favor, even," she said, a cheeky smile on her face. And then, she yawned.

"Okay, that's it. It's time for bed. You were tired even before we started all of this."

"Yes, I was," she said. "But thanks for letting me do it. I'm glad it went mostly well."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead then stepped back for her to slide off the counter. He let the water out of the sink then rinsed it out. She stood there and watched as he brushed his teeth.

In the bedroom he slid between the sheets and looked over at her standing on the other side of the bed, nervously. "What's the matter?"

"How do you want to do this?"

"Oh. When I asked you to stay, I meant, stay. Not, sleep on top of the blankets to keep me company. Get in the bed, Carter," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Well," she huffed, "you don't have to laugh at me. I'm just trying to-"

"Do the right thing, I know," he said, sobering. "C'mere." He opened his arm to her and she came willingly into his side, curled up against him, her head on his shoulder, one knee curled over his thigh, her hand over his heart. He pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "Good night, Sam."

"'Night, Jack."

He lay there as she went to sleep, her breaths turning deep and even. He held her for hours before sleep finally claimed him, too.


	21. Part 3 - Chapter 20

Sam was awakened in the middle of the night by a desperate need to use the bathroom. She carefully extricated herself from Jack's arms and climbed out of bed. She was quiet in the bathroom but still, when she came out, he was propped up in the bed looking confused and disheveled. She climbed back in next to him, scootched in close, and wrapped an arm around him. "Shh," she murmured, "go back to sleep."

"Where'd you go?" he mumbled, still clearly mostly asleep.

"Bathroom."

"Oh." He wrapped her up tight in his arms. "I dreamed I'd killed you again," he said sleepily, but with an edge of caution and worry in his voice.

"It's okay, I'm here," she patted his chest gently.

"I'm so glad I'm retiring."

She didn't share the sentiment, but if he was really so worried about what was going to happen to the rest of SG-1 if he was a part of it, then he definitely needed a break. And if it was a retirement-long break, then she was just going to have to get used to it, she supposed.

"Is it time to get up?" he asked her, still clearly out of it.

"No."

"How much longer?"

She peered at the clock. "Two hours."

He tightened his hold on her – she didn't think it was possible – and buried his face in her hair. She ran her hand all over him, hoping to soothe him. "You need a new CO."

"I'm sure Hammond will assign someone new to SG-1 when he's ready."

"You need someone who can watch your back. Who can protect you."

"We all protect each other," she reminded him, "it's in the job description." She yawned tiredly. "Go back to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning."

"You sleep," he said, apparently awake for the time being. He ran his hand down her back and she arched into him at the feel of his hands on her.

She drifted back off within moments.

She awoke later to the sound of the alarm going off for a brief moment and then the sound of Jack's hand hitting the offending device. She stretched languidly in his arms where he still held her tightly. "Did you ever go back to sleep?"

"No."

She tsked and pressed a kiss to his chest. He threaded his hands into her hair and directed her mouth to his for a kiss. She let him press a closed-mouth kiss to her lips, but even through the light contact she could feel the hint of desperation. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," he said, pulling her tighter to him. It felt like he'd crawl inside her if he could. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that if they'd had a sexual relationship that he'd have rolled her under him already, he was practically vibrating with tension.

His hands roved all over her body, all the parts he could reach, and she shivered as he skimmed the side of her breast, her nipple tightening up against his body where she was pressed into him. "It's okay," she murmured, "I'm here. Couldn't go back to sleep or wouldn't?"

"I don't know. Both? I couldn't kill you again, Sam."

She kissed his jaw, "It was just a dream."

"It felt real. It _feels_ real."

"Well, feel me right here, alive." She grabbed his hand and dragged it up and over the pulse point in her neck. He breathed deeply as he felt her blood thrum through her veins. "I want you to tell me about those dreams."

"I kill you. What more is there to say?" he asked resigned, without anger or malice in his voice.

"How do you do it? What are the circumstances? Why do you do it?"

"What does it matter?"

"Because I think it _does_ matter. And I don't think you'll stop having the dreams until we figure out why you're having them in the first place."

"It's because I know you're not safe with me."

"I've always been safe with you. So safe." She put a hand on his cheek, turned his face so she could look into his eyes.

"That's not true. Look at all the things that have happened to you on my watch."

"And look at all the times we made it home because of you."

"Luck."

"Skill," she countered. "You're a damn fine leader, Colonel O'Neill," she said softly, though it felt strange to call him by his rank while she lay in his arms.

He just shook his head. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she knew they were done with whatever heavy emotions had taken him over in the early moments of their morning and that she wasn't going to get to hear about the dreams until later, if at all. "I could really get used to waking up with you in the morning," he said sliding his hand down from her pulse point to her fingers to tangle them with his own.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Me too."

They were both startled when his cell phone rang. He frowned then disentangled his hand from hers to reach for it. She could only hear his side of the conversation. "O'Neill... yes... yes... zero seven thirty... yes... thanks, Harriman." The whole thing probably took less than a minute, but it put a deep frown on his face that reached all the way to his eyes.

"What is it?" she wanted to know.

"I don't know. Hammond wants to see me."

"Maybe your retirement has gone through."

"Would he call me in at seven thirty for that?"

She shrugged as best she could, lying down as she was.

"I don't think this is good news," he said, then carefully shifted her off of him, sat up, and swung his legs out of bed.

She maneuvered herself until she was seated next to him on the edge of the bed. "Well, how bad could it be? You're on your way out. Maybe it's just some last minute housekeeping."

"Maybe," he said and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm going to get in the shower."

"I'll make coffee," she said.

He nodded, got up and headed into the bathroom. She found herself a little bummed that he hadn't insisted they brush their teeth as he had the previous morning, but she figured he had a lot on his mind. She shrugged and got up to make the coffee.

She was deep in thought about what the General could possibly want with him when he appeared in the kitchen, a towel swathed around his hips, looking for the coffee she promised. She'd already made a dent in her first cup and had poured him one so it would start to cool enough he could drink it. He accepted it gratefully and took a cautious sip.

She looked at him. He had a delectable body, there was no doubt about that. He was still glistening with water droplets from his shower and his grey hair was spiky from the towel or his fingers, she wasn't sure which. Lean and tan, she wanted to put her hands on him, but she didn't dare in his current state of undress. As it was, she kept dragging her eyes away from him to try to keep from making him uncomfortable but they kept creeping back to him.

She wondered if he was trying to prove something to himself or to her by coming out of the bathroom that way. It certainly was a giant step in the direction of trusting her, not that she got the impression that he didn't, but he certainly had reason enough to be wary considering his recent experiences. So maybe it wasn't her he was trying to prove something to. Maybe it really was himself. Maybe this was his way of testing the waters, to see if he was capable of being in a room with her when he didn't have the armor of clothing but without being so vulnerable as being naked.

Hell, maybe she was reading too much into it and the man just generally walked around his house in a towel after a shower. She didn't know.

She swallowed down the last of the coffee in her cup and gave him a smile that he returned surely, easily. It made warmth spread through her insides. "I'm going to go get dressed," she told him, warning him of her impending state of undress in his bedroom.

"Okay."

They took turns getting dressed and by zero six thirty, they were both ready to go, each armed with a to-go cup of coffee in their hands.

"So, I'll see you at the mountain," she said as they stood in his driveway.

"Yeah," he said with a crooked smile. "Glad we're not going to get used to this kind of morning," he said off-handedly. But something about that made the smile slide off her face. Because all of the sudden she had a sinking feeling about what might be coming for him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Come in, have a seat," General Hammond waved Jack into his office and took his own seat.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning," the General said and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "Jack..." he paused, "this isn't the news I wanted to give you."

Jack's stomach clenched and his jaw tightened. He'd been mentally preparing himself for some sort of bad news since the phone call had come just a hair past five that morning. "This have anything to do with my retirement?" The _sir_ wasn't even implied.

Hammond didn't seem to take offense, though. He merely nodded. "I'm sorry, but the JCS aren't accepting your request for retirement."

"Tell them it wasn't a goddamn request," Jack said, immediately incensed.

"It was decided between them _and the President_ that you were simply too valuable to the program to let go."

"Do they know what happened to me? Do they know I'm a liability now, not an asset?"

"Yes, Jack, they do. But they disagree. With therapy, they believe that you can overcome what happened to you."

"Therapy," Jack spat. "I don't think so. What's so special about me, anyway? There's nothing I can do that any other colonel can't."

"Again, they disagree. You have the most experience traveling off-world, are respected by a several alien allies and have had the knowledge of the Ancients downloaded into your brain."

"This is about the Asgard and the Ancients? Tell Thor to make a new buddy! And it's not like I have access to any of the Ancient information that they shoved into my head. It's all gone now."

"What about the Nox? And the Tollan?"

"Those are Carter's gig."

" _Those_ races have a great deal of respect for you and the JCS doesn't want to see our connection with these races diminished in any way."

"What is their brilliant plan if I die?"

"Are you threatening your own life, Jack?" Hammond question dubiously.

"No! I just want to know how they intended to move forward if I'd died on that planet instead of being rescued. Surely there's a plan for running the SGC that doesn't include me."

"While the option to include you exists, they are exercising it."

Jack blew out a breath through pursed lips. "So now what?"

"Now we'll put you back on SG-1 and you all will resume a regular mission schedule. Once you've been cleared for active duty, of course."

"Of course. And if I'm never cleared?" He could arrange that.

"Colonel O'Neill, you will not purposely fail medical or psychological assessments, is that understood?"

"Plainly." He swallowed. Openly defying General Hammond was not something he wanted to do. He respected the man too much. To that end, he saw no way out of this and soon he'd be expected to lead his team back through the gate and likely get them killed in the process. Then it hit him. He had an ace in the hole. He couldn't go back to SG-1. "Then sir, I think I should tell you that my relationship with Major Carter has become more... personal."

The General sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Moreover, he didn't look altogether surprised by the news. "Son, don't think I'm unsympathetic to your situation. But you have to understand that I have to order you to terminate your... personal... relationship with Major Carter."

"You can't just order me to-"

"Yes, I can," he said, more gently than Jack would have thought he had in him. "And I'd hate to see you reinstated to active duty just to be court martialled," he warned, his voice low and slightly menacing.

Which meant he and Carter were going to have to mind their Ps and Qs, because the General was going to have his eye on them. "Yes, sir," Jack said, grudgingly. "Is there anything else?"

"You're to report to the infirmary for a check up and then to Doctor MacKenzie for analysis. I expect both to be seen to before lunch."

"Yes sir," Jack said, standing.

The General's face softened. "I know this isn't how you wanted things to go. And I know we're upsetting your personal life... _again_. But it's only for now, Jack. I'll continue to go to bat for you. If you still want out, I'll do my best to get you out."

It occurred to Jack then that the General had tried, likely tried everything in his power to keep this from happening. "Thank you, sir."

"You're dismissed."

Jack turned on his heel and exited the General's office. He had two appointments to see to and, he checked his watch, four hours to make it happen. He needed to see Sam. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks – he was going to have to break things off with Sam. He could wait, let her come home after a long day, let her fill the empty space in his house. But it seemed cruel. To both of them.

With lead in his feet he made his way to her lab. He walked in and closed the blast door. The sound made her look up from what she was doing. A smile bloomed across her face. "Hey." Then she sobered. "How'd it go?"

He pulled up a stool and sat opposite her, the lab table between them.

"My retirement has been denied. I'm being put back on SG-1."

"What?" Her face went ashen.

"I've got to be cleared for active duty first, but they're already on that. I've got to see all the docs today."

"Oh god, Jack, I'm sorry."

He thought it was probably her use of his first name because he saw the rest of it spread across her face in increments as she realized what else it meant. Tears sprang to her eyes. It took everything he had not to take her in his arms. He could only imagine how difficult this must be for her. To have wanted him for so long, to have gotten a taste of him, and now to know she'd have to give him up. He'd only known he wanted her for a short while and already he could feel dread in the pit of his own stomach.

"Oh god," she said again. "That means we can't..."

He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. I told the General, but I was ordered to end it."

"You told..." She looked at him with wide eyes.

"Yeah."

"Oh god."

"So we're going to be under some scrutiny. No false moves."

She nodded tearfully. "Because I was doing such a good job before."

"Hey, he never knew."

"He wasn't looking."

"He knows we can't control how we feel. We've been ordered to end the relationship, that's all."

"That's all," she scoffed. "Right. If we don't... I _I_ don't get control of my feelings, I'll be off the team. He'll be looking for a reason now to boot me off."

"It's still General Hammond," Jack pointed out. "He's on our side. I think he knows SG-1 is different."

She took a deep, fortifying breath and blinked until her eyes were clear. "Okay. So... okay. That's it."

Jack didn't think it was as easy as she was trying to make it sound, though. She had most certainly pulled herself up by her bootstraps, but he had a feeling there was going to be some fallout.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam wandered aimlessly around her house. Just a few nights at his place and already hers felt... wrong... somehow. She'd taken a shower and then cursed when she realized her good hairbrush was at his house. Not that she was going to go get it. Or ask him for it. Not that or any of the clothes she had left there, either, in her overnight bag. The whole damn thing could stay there, on the chair in his bedroom.

She was startled when her phone rang. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, she thought it was him. But then she thought to herself, why would he torture her that way? Unless... did he need her? She swooped over to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sam," came Janet's friendly voice.

Sam deflated. "Hey, Jan."

"So I hear the gang's all back together. Or, almost, anyway."

And she abruptly started to cry. She hadn't intended to tell anyone at all what had happened between her and Jack but now that it was over and she was hurting so much it seemed like talking about it might not be so bad, if she chose her audience wisely. And besides, the General already knew, so what did she have to lose?

It took ten minutes to catch Janet up but once she had the doctor was making soft, sympathetic noises into the phone. "Oh, honey."

"Now what am I supposed to?"

Thankfully, the woman didn't point out that there was nothing to be done. "Wine?"

Sam sniffled. "I don't have any wine."

"There's a liquor store between my house and yours. I can be there in twenty," her friend offered.

Suddenly, it sounded like a great idea. "Okay."

"Okay. I'll be there soon."

Sam found her travel brush and ran it through her hair, taming it as much as possible after the finger-comb she gave it straight out of the shower. She figured Janet wouldn't care if her hair was a mess, though.

True to her word, Janet showed up twenty-two minutes after they'd hung up their phone call. Janet pulled Sam into a tight hug when she walked through the door. Sam clung to her friend, her eyes welling up with tears once again. "You know, I knew this was a problem, even when I asked," she said with a chuckle.

Luckily that caused Sam to laugh. "I thought I'd done such a good job of hiding how I felt."

"To people who didn't know you, I'm sure you did a fine job. It's not like there's a pool going around base about you and the Colonel."

Sam snorted. "Thank goodness for that."

Sam poured them both a glass of wine and they got comfortable in the living room. Or, as comfortable as she could get considering the subject matter.

"So you two... for the last week, huh?"

"Well, sort of. We sort of discovered that he was in a better mood if he woke up and I was in the house. And then he asked me to stay with him, in the bed. And so I did."

"I see."

"We weren't having sex," Sam defended. "All we've done is kiss. He's not... he can't... there's too much..."

"It's okay, I understand," Janet said gently.

"But we definitely got closer, and more than just physically."

"And now you have to go back to the way it was."

"I don't know if I can."

"If you can't, the General will have to remove you from SG-1."

"I know, and I don't want that."

"So you better figure out how to get it together," her friend said, not unkindly.

"He's going to be so much better at this than I am," she bemoaned.

"Yes," Janet agreed, "probably. Try not to let that upset you even more. He's just good at compartmentalizing his feelings."

"It's not just that. He doesn't feel for me the way I feel for him."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do," Sam said surely. "He told me so."

"What, _exactly,_ did he tell you?"

"That he wasn't where I was, but that he had feelings for me that weren't just professional. Can't be much clearer than that."

"That's where he was in that moment. Have you talked about it since then?"

"In the one week that's passed? No, of course not."

"A lot can happen in a week," Janet pointed out.

"And a week is also a very short amount of time. Nothing could have changed."

"Perhaps."

"But it doesn't matter now, anyway, because we've been _ordered_ not to see each other anymore. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? And I haven't even had to face the General yet."

"It'll be fine," Janet soothed. "He's a reasonable man. I'm sure he wasn't upset about your changed relationship with the Colonel. But he had no choice but to end it."

"I should have known better. He'll think I should have known better."

"I don't think that's true, Sam."

"I have a lot of respect for General Hammond," Sam said.

"And he has a lot of respect for you."

"Not anymore. Now I'm just some weak-willed woman."

"Having feelings doesn't make you weak-willed, Sam."

"I should have been able to control it."

"Look, you can beat yourself up about this if you want, but I think you're giving yourself too hard of a time. I don't think the General is going to think any less of you."

"Do you?"

"Why? Because you fell for your CO?" Janet laughed. "Of course not."

"You sounded like you disapproved."

"It wasn't that. It's that I was worried for you. You were working yourself to death and there was obviously something going on with you. I was just worried."

Sam sighed. "I should have talked to you about this a long time ago, maybe I could have gotten out of this without confessing my feelings to him."

"Well, the way you told it, Daniel's the one that let that little tid-bit fly anyway."

Sam scowled. "Don't get me started on Daniel."

"Try not to be too angry with him. He doesn't understand the military, and he's your friend. I'm sure he was just trying to do the best he thought he could do by two of his best friends."

"Well, it's a fine mess I'm in now. I think I'd have rather gone on not knowing what it felt like to..." _be in his arms, kiss him, feel his arousal pressed against me._

"Yeah," Janet said, as if Sam hadn't left it all unsaid. Of course, that was the nice thing about friends. Often, they heard the things you didn't say just as loudly as the things you did.

The women sat back into the couch and sipped their wine quietly, the mood somber on the heels of Sam's almost confession. It took a while, but they finished the bottle, and when Janet left, Sam couldn't say she felt any better, but she certainly felt lighter for having shared her secret with someone.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack poured himself some whiskey and thought back over his session with MacKenzie who seemed only too happy to get Jack in his clutches. Okay, so maybe the man wasn't that bad, but Jack wasn't interested in talk therapy unless the person he was talking to was Sam.

All he'd really told the man was how he'd started a relationship with her and had to end it, but mostly he'd told him that because the man had asked if Jack was still dreaming and Jack had to admit that he was but that it wasn't as bad when Sam was around. He was pretty sure he bought her some of her own sessions with the shrink by confessing of their short-lived relationship, but it couldn't be helped, he supposed.

MacKenzie had deemed him fit for light duty, which meant work but no missions through the gate. Not until he was sleeping better, apparently. But now that he'd lost his lifeline, who knew how well that was going to go? Of course, that was the point of the therapy, he knew. To talk things out so he wouldn't have to dream them out. But he knew from experience that talking didn't make the dreams stop.

He wandered into his bedroom to see the bed perfectly made. Her handiwork that morning, rather than his. She'd made the bed while he puttered in the bathroom. He looked into the bathroom and it made him think about just the night before when she'd sat on that very counter and shaved his face. The way it had made him feel...

He caught sight of her hairbrush on the counter and it made his stomach clench for want of her. His eyes scanned his bedroom and he found her overnight bag. Like a starving man he went to it, rifled through it, like a gentleman he pushed aside the panties she'd worn the day before, and pulled out the t-shirt she'd slept in. He held it up to his face, it smelled like the two of them together.

He shouldn't torture himself this way. He didn't get to have her anymore, despite the fact that she made things easier, she wasn't an option. But he couldn't seem to turn his brain back to the time when she hadn't been something he wanted. He sat down on his bed, his tumbler of whiskey on the bedside table beside him. He dropped her t-shirt in his lap, close but not so close.

He wondered what she was doing. He picked up the phone to call her, not once, not twice, but three times, before he talked himself out of hurting her in a way he couldn't soothe. Best to make it a clean break. He'd wait until things between them were settled and then he'd get her stuff back to her. She'd be fine without it until then. He just needed to make sure she was fine with everything else.

He took another sip of his whiskey and looked at the shirt in his lap. Like a fool, he lifted it to his face once more.


	22. Part 3 - Chapter 21

Sam really thought that things might feel halfway normal once things were back to, well, normal, but they didn't. She felt like she was walking around in a bubble that was about to burst. She threw herself into her work in hopes that would help, but even her experiments were hardly enough to hold her attention when all she could seem to think about was _him._ She knew he was off limits, but that didn't seem to make any difference at all to her brain. To say she was worried about him would be an understatement. Did he sleep the night before? Did he drink?

"Hey," came the quiet entreaty that startled her out of her reverie.

She looked up sharply to find Daniel standing in the doorway to her lab. "Hi," she said cautiously. They hadn't really spoken much since she'd left him sitting in that coffee shop.

"I thought it might be nice if we all had lunch together, you know SG-1, all back together now..."

Sam blew air out through pursed lips. She didn't want to sit across the table from Jack just yet. Didn't think she could, not knowing what his body felt like, warm in bed. She needed more time to compartmentalize. "Not today," she said. "I've got too much going on."

Daniel looked around. "Too much to eat lunch?"

"Yes," she said simply, in hopes that the less she said the less he'd have to trip her up with if he chose to argue.

"Is this because you're still mad at me for telling Jack? Because I don't think he's upset anymore."

"I'm not _mad_ at you, Daniel. I feel like you betrayed a confidence. I know that you went behind my back and did something I expressly asked you _not_ to do. I'm hurt. And," she was ramping up now that she had a captive audience, "okay, so maybe it is anger. But you _did_ irrevocably change things between me and the Colonel."

"But isn't that good?"

"Two things for you to think about... what made you think he'd even be open to entertaining feelings from somebody after what he'd been through?"

"I... I just thought he could use somebody..."

"And what made you think he'd be interested in _me_?"

"Well... you're... _you_..."

She huffed out a humorless laugh. "Well, as it turns out the joke's on me, because you were right."

"I was? Wait... do you mean you and Jack are...?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not anymore. I don't know what you expected to happen, Daniel, but the General has ordered the colonel and me not to be personally involved. This is what happens if you want SG-1 to be together. It's either this or that, but it's not both. And we don't even get the option. It's SG-1."

"So, you two talked and decided you felt the same way and now..."

"Now it's over." She was mortified to feel her eyes fill with tears. Again.

"Sam, I'm sorry." It was the first time he'd apologized over the whole mess and it hit her square in the solar plexus. He crossed the room to her and gathered her in his arms. "This isn't what I meant to happen. I just wanted you to be happy."

"There was no way this was going to end well. I knew that."

"But when it looked like he was retiring..."

"We thought, maybe."

"Would you have ever said anything to him? Once he _was_ retired, maybe?" He pulled back from her so he could look her in the eye but kept his arms looped loosely around her.

"I don't know. Probably not."

"I've known Jack a long time, Sam. He's worth the risk."

"I've already taken the risk, Daniel." She refused to say that it was over again. That part hurt too much.

"Maybe one day things will be different," Daniel offered.

She huffed. "Sure. One day. I'll just put my life on hold then, waiting for one day."

"Move on, then, if you think you can. But I don't think it's going to be that easy."

"Are you trying to doom me to something, here?"

"No. I'm just saying, feelings like this don't come around often. And maybe you should be looking for a way to make it work instead of living in defeat."

"I can't live in hope for something that can't happen. It would hurt too much. The whole thing _hurts_ too much."

"I feel like this is all my fault."

She laughed soggily and pulled out of the circle of his arms, batted his chest. "It is. You need to learn to keep your mouth shut. And just... keep your nose out of it from here on out, huh? Things might be tense between me and the colonel for a while, we don't need you trying to fix it, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay. I'll try. It's just hard to see people you love hurting."

"I know. Now, go to lunch. Tell the guys I'm busy, _don't_ tell them anything else."

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

He left her lab then and she was left feeling like she'd been run over by a tractor trailer. She was starting to think that Daniel might be beginning to understand exactly what he'd gotten himself in the middle of. And he did seem genuinely apologetic about the pain he'd caused. He was, she knew, her friend, and he'd never purposely hurt her. But he'd done exactly as she'd asked him not to because he thought he knew better. And, it had actually gone okay, at first. So maybe he'd been right after all. It wasn't really his fault that the whole thing had gone to hell.

But, it was hard not to blame him. If it weren't for him and his meddling ways none of this would have happened. She'd have gotten SG-1 back and been blissfully unaware of what it meant to be with Jack O'Neill. She'd seen a side of him she hadn't known he had. It was true what he'd said – she didn't know all of him. And she'd been enjoying learning about him. For the short time she'd had with him, despite the challenges they'd faced, she was happy. Really and truly happy. She owed that to Daniel opening his big mouth. So, maybe if he were to blame, he was also, a little bit, to be thanked for what he'd done.

Maybe, she thought, she owed him a bit of an apology.

Then, she thought of what he put her through.

No. They were even.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack sat behind his desk sorting through a mountain of paperwork. Apparently no one had gotten the memo that he'd been on leave and he had, well, memos out the wazoo. It took him several hours just to get up to speed on what was going on under the mountain. Of course, it probably took that long because he couldn't go more than fifteen minutes without his mind drifting to Sam.

He wondered how she'd been the night before. Had she slept and better than he had? His dreams had come wicked and wild, a mix of remembrances of his hallucinations and new, fresh hells his brain had cooked up for him. When he'd awoken, violently, at one point, he'd reached for her, forgetting that she wasn't with him, his hand encountering nothing but the cool sheets of the empty side of his bed.

He found himself yawning his way through his morning, and when Daniel came to get him for lunch, he went with a sort of restrained hope that he'd see her there. Then Daniel had dropped the bomb that she was working through lunch and he'd felt his spirits falls. He hadn't realized how much he'd been looking forward to seeing her.

He wondered if maybe he wouldn't be better off avoiding her, though. She was like a drug to him. Better to detox completely. He scoffed at himself because wasn't he the one who was huffing her shirt the night before? He'd gotten attached to both her and the idea of her very quickly. Once he'd submitted to concept of her and her feelings, it hadn't taken long for him to see how they fit together. He'd told her he wasn't where she was yet, that he wasn't in love with her, but he could see how it could very easily happen.

After lunch he sifted through mission files for a while, reacquainting himself with what the teams had been up to in his absence. He was about ready to bang his head on the desk, though, when Teal'c showed up – perfect timing as usual.

"O'Neill."

"Teal'c! Buddy! What's happening?"

"I believe it would be beneficial for you to train with me this afternoon."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. "You looking for a reason to beat me up? What did I do? Does this have something to do with Sa—Carter?"

"For what reason would I need to damage you on behalf of Major Carter?" Teal'c asked with one impeccably raised eyebrow.

"On _behalf_ of her? No reason. Because she's upset and it's got something to do with me? Maybe you've got a reason." Jack got up from his desk and threaded his arms into his BDU jacket as he followed Teal'c out of his office.

"You changed the nature of your relationship with Major Carter," Teal'c surmised.

"Yeah."

"But now you have returned to SG-1."

"Yep."

"And that means you may no longer engage in an intimate relationship."

"Let's call it a personal relationship, okay?" Jack said, feeling himself blush.

"And for this reason, Major Carter finds herself unhappy. And what of you?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm unhappy, too. I'm unhappy about the whole damn thing. I'm supposed to be retired. But here I am."

"For what reason do you desire retirement over service?"

"Because I'm a liability, Teal'c. I'm not the same guy that led our previous missions."

Teal'c frowned. "Do you not believe that with time you could become the same man again?"

"I don't know. I just know I'm tired of trying. It's time, Teal'c. No one is meant to do this forever. I've earned my retirement. I've had a helluva career. I've seen things no one should have to see," he said as they reached the locker rooms. Jack pushed his way inside and went to his locker. He opened it up and grabbed gym clothes from the shelf at the top. "I had made plans. I was on my way out."

"And those plans included Major Carter?"

"Yeah, they did."

Teal'c nodded bent down to untie his boots but the censure in his voice carried. "Your military regulations confuse me."

"Why's that?"

"You and Major Carter share a bond that is not duplicated easily. It does not make sense to keep you apart to make the team safer."

"It's so that I keep the team as a whole in mind instead of my girlfriend. They don't want me saving her when it makes sense to save someone else, or the rest of you. They don't want me making a stupid decision because I'm more concerned about her than I am about myself or about the mission. There are good reasons for the regulations."

"They seem unnecessarily restrictive."

"I'm surprised you don't see the merit of them."

"Do your feelings for Major Carter change simply because you are not allowed to engage in a... _personal_... relationship?"

Jack hesitated, he was only just coming to grips with what his feelings for her were. "No."

"So I do not see how it makes a difference."

"We're not supposed to have the feelings at all," Jack said with exasperation.

"And yet the fact remains that you do."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Teal'c."

"I do not wish for you to say anything in particular, O'Neill. We are merely having a conversation."

"Right," Jack said, though he was pretty sure Teal'c was telling him to screw the regs. Or something. It felt like Teal'c was coming down on the side of the relationship with Sam. Which was, Jack had to admit, attractive. But he couldn't ask her to do that. She was an honorable officer. It was enough of a run around for her when they were marking time while he was waiting to retire. She'd never go for a clandestine relationship while they served on the same team.

Would she?

He wouldn't put her in that position. Never would. He wasn't sure he had it in him, either. He respected the General too much to go out of his way to defy orders so spectacularly. Never mind the times he'd done so before – but those were different, he justified.

Changed and ready for the gym, the two men made their way there and to the mats. The gym was nearly empty save for a few people on treadmills and weight machines. They began to spar, but he was in his head more than he was on the mat – to a fault, it turned out, because he spent more time on his back than he did on his feet.

"You seem distracted, O'Neill. You should focus."

"Yeah," Jack said, wiping the sweat off his brow.

Which was, of course, the moment, Sam walked into the gym.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam needed some time in the gym to clear her head. Preferably some time on the treadmill to run until she'd left her problems behind her somewhere. But as soon as she walked into the gym, she spotted him. Spotted his back, really, his silver hair, shoulders, narrow hips, legs – she knew his body well, could pick him out of a crowd at a hundred yards.

Teal'c was with him. They were sparring. She knew the moment Jack spotted her because he was flattened by Teal'c who grimaced at him before helping him up off the mat. The big man said something to him that she couldn't overhear that made Jack scowl before he darted another look in her direction. She was glued to the floor where she stood as she looked at him. She hadn't been expecting to see him so she was unprepared.

She'd resolved to avoid him. It was the easier way to deal with her feelings, sure, to simply pretend like she didn't have them. Not so easy when she kept pouring her heart out to whoever would listen. But true that she didn't want to have to face him when she knew how difficult it would be to see him and not want to feel him, not want to _know_ how he was doing. She didn't want to have to ask about his recovery – she wanted to be a part of it. She didn't want to be his teammate, she wanted to be his partner.

She realized, then, that she was staring at him. But he was staring right back at her and Teal'c was looking between the two of them as if trying to figure out what, exactly, their problem was. She wished she could tell him. Realized that Jack may have already done so. The fact that they'd spent a short time together might not be a secret any longer. Goodness knew she'd told her fair share of people. She wouldn't begrudge him talking about it if he needed to.

And it did her heart good to think he might have needed to talk about it, too. That maybe it hurt him the way it hurt her to be told that they couldn't be together. Maybe she meant something to him even if he never had gotten a chance to tell her so. Which broke her heart a little because she thought maybe this whole thing would be easier if only she knew how he felt. Once Janet had put the thought in her head that his feelings could have changed, she'd been fixated on that as if she now had no idea what was going on in his head.

After long moments she saw him open his mouth as if to speak to her and she, out of self preservation, minutely shook her head. Whatever it was he had to say, she didn't think she could bear to hear it, even if was just an inanity of command. That might even be worse.

She turned her back on him and crossed the room to the treadmills. It was better if she just pretended he wasn't there. She tried. Oh, how she tried. But she was hyperaware of his presence. It was like she could feel him in the room, his heartbeat, his respiration. She ran until she he left the gym. She ran until she couldn't still feel him. She ran until the only thing she was aware of was the feeling of her feet hitting the surface of the treadmill beneath them.


	23. Part 3 - Chapter 22

Jack shifted uncomfortably in the chair as he stared across the desk at MacKenzie. He didn't want to be there and he knew the other man knew it. "I know this is low on your priority list, Colonel O'Neill, but you can't be cleared for duty until I've had a chance to assess your mental state."

It was on the tip of Jack's tongue to tell him that was fine because he didn't want to be cleared for duty, but that would just get back to the General and piss the other man off to a degree Jack didn't want to experience. "My mental state is fine," he opted for instead.

"So you're sleeping fine?"

"As well as can be expected."

"I wouldn't expect you to be sleeping very well at all," MacKenzie observed.

"I _was_ sleeping just fine," Jack muttered, but the doctor caught it.

"Until what happened? Until you were ordered to end your relationship with Major Carter?"

The man was no slouch, Jack would give him that. "Yeah, she made it easier to sleep," Jack admitted.

"Any thoughts on why that is?"

"Was."

"Okay."

"No. I don't want to discuss my relationship – or lack thereof – with Carter."

"Do you think you'll be able to serve with her now that you've been ordered to end your personal relationship?"

Jack resisted the urge to point out that he didn't think he was going to be able to serve at all which was why he wanted to retire. "My short relationship with Carter will not affect my command of the team," that much he could promise. If he was going to have command issues, it wasn't going to have anything to do with the fact that he'd made out with Carter at some point.

"So, if that's not going to be a problem, let's talk about what might be. Let's talk about your time on P3R-289."

"What more do you want to know?" Jack asked resignedly. He knew he wasn't going to get out of talking about it, the most he could manage was not volunteering information the shrink wasn't looking for.

"You said the drug made you hallucinate new hells you never imagined. Tell me about those."

Jack closed his eyes against the onslaught of images that flashed through his brain. "I kill my team."

"You personally? Or you simply allow them to fall to harm?"

"No, doc, I personally pull the trigger."

"And what are the circumstances leading up to that?"

"No circumstances. They're standing in front of me and I shoot them, one after the other. Over and over."

"You mean the hallucination repeats or you shoot them multiple times?"

"Yes," Jack said simply, for both are true. He flinched at the memory, rapid-fire _bang! bang!_ two bullets into Sam's forehead, it turned his stomach and he was suddenly wary of vomiting all over MacKenzie's office.

It was always the same, the three of them standing in a row. Teal'c, Daniel, Sam. At least it wasn't the same as it was when he was on Astarte's planet when he'd also been killing Sara and Charlie. No, since he'd been home the nightmare had changed, morphed to be just his team – the last remaining people on earth who counted on him for protection. Teal'c and Daniel, the men who'd become brothers. Sam, the woman who'd become so much more.

"Tell me what you're seeing," MacKenzie said, cutting into the images rolling through Jack's mind.

"Teal'c, dead. Daniel, dead. Sam," he choked, then corrected, aware he was giving too much away, "Carter, dead."

"You know what you dream isn't going to come to pass. You're not going to kill your teammates."

"Not like that," Jack conceded. "But I'm going to get them killed out there."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not the same leader they had before."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not!"

" _Why_ not?"

"Because... because," Jack clenched his fists against his thighs, "because I'm _weaker_ now!" he exploded.

"Why do you think you're weaker?"

Jack clenched his teeth. He didn't have any intention of speaking further. He'd already given more than he intended to. He knew he had steel in his eyes when he met the gaze of the doctor so he wasn't surprised when MacKenzie closed the folder on his lap, apparently aware they weren't making any further progress that day.

Which was fine by Jack. He didn't want to talk about the Blood of Sokar and the hallucinations or the dreams he'd been having since he'd been home. He didn't want to talk about his time as Astarte's personal servant and how that impacted his fledgling relationship with Carter. He didn't want to talk about his relationship with Carter. He didn't want to talk about any of it.

He'd agreed to therapy grudgingly knowing that if he didn't at least attempt to comply he'd be in hot water with the General. And he'd done some talking so far, he couldn't be faulted for that, he'd just reached his limit for the day. Admitting he was weak was a tough thing to do, despite the fact that he felt it down to his very core.

He hadn't voiced that particular feeling up to this point, though, because he was afraid of the implications. It was one thing to feel like he was unable to lead his team, it was another to feel that way because he knew he had a weakness within him. A deep and abiding weakness that was a pit of emotion so soft and unburied now that he felt like his only choice moving forward was to cover it over with an act of emotionlessness that might just save them all.

He could actually feel the soft spots inside him tarring over as he collected himself. The things he felt for Carter were shoved away and boxed up and covered over. The raw spots that were open and oozing that spoke of Charlie were packed with gauze, bandaged over then cemented clean. He felt it all happening inside him, felt the steel slide into his backbone.

"We're done for today," he told MacKenzie, his tone brooking no argument.

"You're still not cleared for active duty, Colonel. I'm not convinced you're in fighting shape."

"You will be," Jack said, as he pushed himself to his feet. "Just not today."

MacKenzie sighed. "I'll see you this time on Thursday."

Jack just nodded once sharply and left the room.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam chopped a squash into inelegant pieces as she recalled her session with Doctor MacKenzie earlier that day.

"Maybe you should let me do that," Janet said and gently took the knife out of Sam's hand and bumped her aside with her hip.

Sam smiled ruefully and let Janet take over the task and watched as her friend chopped the next vegetable into uniform cubes.

"You saw MacKenzie today?" Janet surmised.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"He asked me about my personal relationship with Jack."

"Well... yeah. Considering that it's likely going to affect your future missions, I can see why he'd want to make sure everything was fine on that front." She hesitated. "Is it?"

"Yes," Sam said a little defensively, "of course."

Janet gave Sam an intense look.

"What? It's not like my feelings have changed. I've been dealing with this for a long time. It's just... now he knows."

"And that changes things."

"Not that much. And not if he's going to _compartmentalize_ the way you think he will."

"I think he'll have to," Janet said gently. "The colonel has a lot going on right now."

"You think of all people _I_ don't know that?"

"Fair point." Janet moved on to the onions.

Sam watched as Janet made quick work of the vegetables and she really thought they were going to move on to other subjects when Janet didn't continue the line of questioning right away. On one hand, she was fine talking about Jack with her friend, but on the other, it was difficult to explain the situation without going into details that Sam felt were incredibly personal. So, she wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved when Janet pulled a bottle of wine out of the fridge and poured two generous glasses before pointing Sam onto one of the bar stools. It was clear Sam was to settle in.

"So, did anything else happen between you two or do you think just his knowing how you feel is going to affect your working relationship? Because honestly, Sam, the colonel's got it pretty together – there's got to be more to it than that."

"He _had_ it more together," Sam pointed out. "Before he was tortured to the brink of his sanity."

"Even you have to admit he's doing pretty well considering."

"He's bottling it all up! The only person he was talking to was me and now we're avoiding each other," she said with a humorless laugh.

"Which gives me even more reason to believe that something happened between you. If it was just a matter of him knowing how you felt there wouldn't be any reason to keep your distance from one another, right?"

"He's doing it for me. It's too hard, it hurts too much, knowing what I almost had, what I _did_ have. Even if it was just for a week."

"A lot can happen in a week," Janet pointed out.

"I already told you nothing happened."

"No, you alluded to the fact that you didn't have sex. There's a lot between nothing and sex."

Sam blushed. It felt strange to tell her friend there was kissing, High-School-strange, immature-like.

"That doesn't look like nothing," Janet said with a smirk.

"Let's just say the man kisses with his whole body," Sam said, feeling her blush deepen. But it was the best she could come up with that didn't actually involve telling Janet that every time they kissed he got hard and he'd press his arousal into her. That was knowledge and a feeling that Sam was going to hold safe and close and use to keep her warm when things got just a little too lonesome.

"And there was the sleeping together," Janet pointed out. "That's pretty intimate."

"I've been sleeping with him offworld for years."

"My guess is, it was different."

"Hmm," Sam said in an agreeing-sort of tone. "He's a close sleeper," she said idly, remembering the feel of his arms around her, his shoulder beneath her head, his chest beneath her hand. She felt herself slip away to his bed.

"Oh, sweetie," Janet said softly pulling her back to her kitchen.

Sam felt herself tear up, sad all over again for what she'd lost, sad for him and what he was enduring alone, sad for the way things had to be. She took a gulp of her wine and let the cold white swirl around in her mouth before she swallowed it down. "I'm fine," she said, more for her own benefit than for Janet's.

"Yeah you are," Janet said in solidarity and toasted Sam with her glass. "What else did MacKenzie want to talk about?" she asked, clearly anxious to change the topic.

"He asked me about killing Astarte," Sam said quietly. "I didn't have to kill her," Sam confessed, quickly.

Janet just nodded slowly. "So why did you?"

"Because she was..." Sam was transported back to that bedroom and watching Astarte rocking herself over Jack's prone body, her long dark hair cascading down her naked back.

"She was what?"

Sam exhaled through pursed lips. "He was being raped, Janet."

Janet formed her mouth into a round O, her eyes wide and it occurred to Sam that while she knew what had happened to him she hadn't known exactly what Sam had walked in on.

"I couldn't stop myself," Sam said. "And I don't feel bad about it."

"If the tables had been turned," Janet said slowly, "I think any one of the guys would have done the same."

"You're saying I didn't do it because of my feelings for him?"

"I'm saying that if you did, that wasn't the only reason."

"MacKenzie seems to think I should be having issues with this."

"But you're not?"

"Not at all," Sam said, shaking her head.

"Well, just because you aren't now, while you're still angry, doesn't mean you won't in the future. You may, eventually, have to deal with this, even if it's not right now."

"You don't think it says something horrible about me that I don't feel remorse?"

Janet sighed. "Under the circumstances, no. But if you do start to, that doesn't make you a bad person, either, okay?"

Sam took a sip of her wine to give her time to collect her thoughts. "Jack hasn't mentioned it."

"Are you surprised?"

"Not really," she said with a half shrug. "And now he won't," she said forlornly. She was sad, but she was also a little pissed because he _had_ been talking to her, he _had_ been processing what had happened to him. And the powers that be had put a halt to that because they thought he'd be better off on SG-1. While she had complete faith in him as her colonel, after listening to his reasoning and knowing how badly he wanted retirement, she wasn't so sure they were right. Forcing him to talk to MacKenzie wasn't going to go well. He'd say only what needed to be said to clear himself and he'd never fully work through the things that haunted him the most. He'd just box them back up the way he had before and who knew how it would harden him this time?

"You're worried about him," Janet said softly.

"Of course I am."

"The colonel is a strong man."

"I'm afraid that he'll heal without enough bend this time and that when something pushes him, he'll break."

"Why this time?"

"Because this was the worst. This was everything all at once, over and over. This was his family, his team..."

"You."

"Yes," she conceded. "And me, for what difference that might make."

"Sam," Janet snapped, "stop it. Do you think he decided to give things a shot with you out of pity? Or boredom? He did it because he felt something for you, too. Just because his feelings for you weren't as strong as yours were for him doesn't mean that he didn't have them. You've got to stop treating this like he was humoring you."

"What difference does it make now?" Sam asked seriously.

"Because I honestly don't think this is over."

"I can't hold out hope, Jan, it hurts too much."

"Well, I'm your best friend. I guess it's up to me to hold out hope for you." Janet said with a cock-eyed smile, then she drained her glass and turned back to the food preparation. She picked up a potato and started to peel.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack stripped the sheets off his bed – the ones he'd shared with Sam. He balled them up and tossed them into the corner before grabbing the pillow she'd barely used for the use of his shoulder and stripped the pillowcase off it as well. When he'd finished with the pillows he began remaking the bed with a sharp, economy of movement that would have made any drill sergeant proud.

He cast a glance at her overnight bag in the chair in the corner. He was attempting to usher her out of his home but her bag on the chair and the memory of her perched on his bathroom counter were doing little to help him purge her presence. With disgust he plucked her worn t-shirt up off his bedside table and shoved it into her bag and zipped the thing up. He shouldered it and carried it out of the room and down the hall and dropped it on the floor next to the front door. He'd take it to her on base.

In the kitchen he poured himself a glass of whiskey as he realized what a spectacularly bad idea it was to walk through the halls with her overnight bag and to hand it over to her in a place with security cameras everywhere. It was as good as admitting that they were sleeping together when they weren't. Hadn't been. Whatever.

The fact remained, he needed to get it the hell out of his bedroom. It wasn't helping, having her so close. But he could picture the crushed look on her face when he handed it over. It wasn't the bag, really, but what it represented. And he may have tucked his feelings for her away inside himself, but it didn't mean he was anxious to go out of his way to hurt her. He wanted to actively avoid her not actively be an ass to her. Though being an ass was likely going to be his default setting for a while. Daniel should really love that. Jack snorted into his glass.

He had a job to do, something to focus on that wasn't her, and for that he was grateful. He hoped she had enough to do to pull her focus, too. But of course she did, he thought as he remembered exactly who she was and what she did on that base. He, on the other hand, had a job to do to convince MacKenzie that he was fit for active duty. Which meant, sleep or no sleep, he had to appear like he was sleeping. He had to appear solid. And, most importantly, he needed to appear that he agreed with the powers that be that he could lead his team effectively. More to the point, he needed to get his shit together so he _could_ lead his team effectively enough to avoid getting them killed on their next excursion. Which, he wasn't afraid to admit, he hoped would be a bit of a cake walk. It had been a while since they'd all been out together, they could use something simple to get back into the swing of things.

A knock on his door had his stomach turning somersaults until he realized that it wasn't _her_ knock. At the door he pushed her bag aside with his foot and pulled it open to reveal Daniel standing there looking pensive. Daniel's eyes fell to the tumbler in Jack's hand and Jack was suddenly conscious that it was only mid-morning. "I take it that's not iced tea," Daniel said by way of greeting, a flat look taking over the pensiveness that had been in his eyes only a moment before.

Jack grimaced and lifted the glass to his lips to make a point.

Daniel's shrewd eyes swept the entryway and fell onto the overnight bag by the door. "Going somewhere?"

"No," Jack said simply.

"I didn't think so," Daniel said evenly. "Because I'm pretty sure that bag is Sam's."

"What's your point?"

"No point," Daniel said and raised his hands in surrender. "Can I come in?"

Jack took a step back and tacitly invited the younger man into the house.

"What's got you in a mood today?" Daniel asked, leading the way into the living room.

Jack trailed him slowly, stopping at the top of the steps that led down into the room. "My mood isn't any different today than any other day."

"You've been doing pretty well," Daniel countered, "but you seem to be... ill-tempered... today. Based on the, you know, scowl and scotch."

Jack didn't correct him on the liquor in the glass. "I'm not _ill-tempered._ "

"Then what's with the scowl?"

Jack felt said scowl deepen, he couldn't deny its presence. "I'm just... dealing with some things."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No, I don't want to _talk_ about it," Jack snarled.

Daniel raised an eyebrow Teal'c would have been proud of. Jack didn't encourage him by saying anything further. He wanted to ask how Sam was doing, but he didn't. He wasn't so sure Daniel would know, but he suspected that the two scientists had begun to work things out as he'd seen them in proximity a couple of times and it hadn't looked like Sam had wanted to kill Daniel.

Daniel canted his head, "What?"

"Nothing."

"You've got something on your mind."

"That's hardly ever true."

"It's true right now."

"Drop it, Daniel."

"Ask me about Sam," Daniel prodded.

As much as he wanted to, he had to point out, "Aren't you supposed to be staying out of all of this?"

"Yes," he said simply. "But there's staying out of something and there's watching two people hurt needlessly. And you're clearly in as much pain as she is."

"Clearly?"

"You're drinking at ten-thirty in the morning," Daniel pointed out. "You'll remember I knew you _before_ , Jack. I know what the drinking means."

"I'm not suicidal, Daniel," Jack said roughly.

"Good," he said definitively. "But you're not exactly happy, either."

"I'm managing."

"That sounds great," Daniel said sarcastically.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to actually talk to me about how you're feeling!"

"Not gonna happen."

"You've got to talk to somebody."

Jack flashed to his conversations with Sam. He'd had somebody to talk to. Somebody he trusted. And the powers that be had taken that away from him because they thought they knew better about how to help him. About how to move forward. "I'm talking to MacKenzie," Jack said.

Daniel looked half shocked. "Okay."

"It's mandatory. To be declared fit for active duty."

"Just... try to get something out of it, okay?"

"I'm doing what I have to do, no more."

Daniel nodded. "I'd expect that from you."

Jack drained his glass. "So... are we done here?"

Daniel sighed. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Okay. You can see yourself out," Jack said and wandered into the kitchen for a refill. Hell, it was five o'clock somewhere.


	24. Part 3 - Chapter 23

Over the course of the next several weeks Jack got very good at playing MacKenzie. Their sessions were an endless loop of questions that Jack hedged and fudged on until even he was buffaloed by the answers.  

"Are you sleeping?" 

"Yes." 

Lie. 

"Are  you ready to lead your team?" 

"Yes." 

Lie. 

"Can you command Major Carter in the field?" 

"Yes." 

Strong pang of pain slicing through his gut. Tamped back down, shoved in the box labeled _Carter_ , to be dealt with at a later date with a tumbler of something dark and oaky. 

It was after weeks of that that MacKenzie finally closed his folder and peered at Jack with a calculated look on his face. "Colonel O'Neill, I suspect that a lot of your progress is mind over matter, but in your case that might actually be enough." 

Jack wasn't sure if that statement was leading up to something good or not.  

"Moreover, your resistance to traditional therapeutic techniques ties my hands somewhat. You have been more cooperative than I envisioned, however, and with that in mind, and having seen the progress you've made," the man narrowed his eyes as if he knew Jack was a dirty, filthy liar, "I'm clearing you for active duty." He handed Jack a sheaf of official looking paperwork he knew he was supposed to take to General Hammond. 

"Uh," he cleared his throat, "thanks," he said for lack of anything better to say. If he said anything else, he was afraid he'd give himself away as the fraud he knew himself to be. 

Because there was a truth that Jack tried very hard not to dwell on. He slept, occasionally and fitfully. The nightmares were frequent and vivid and nothing chased them away. He thought incessantly of Sam in his bed and the further removed he was from his time with Astarte the more he contemplated what it would be like to feel Sam's hands on his body, wondered if she'd be able to drain him to a point that the dreams couldn't come. 

He'd returned her overnight bag via Daniel but he'd broken and kept the t-shirt she'd slept in. She hadn't mentioned it but she wouldn't have. The few words they'd exchanged in the intervening weeks had been chaperoned by their teammates and had been stilted at best. They didn't know how to talk to one another anymore and it scared the shit out of him because how was he really supposed to command her in the field if he couldn't even look her in the eye when he talked to her? 

His difficulty in talking to her was brought on by several things. He knew it hurt her to have to end their relationship, and after hearing how she felt about him for so long he suspected that it was a pain that ran deep. But also, dammit, whether he planned it or not it was hurtful to him too, which was why he'd had to shove his feelings for her in a box and forget about them. And he knew that he treated her differently because of that and he knew that had to hurt her as well. But there were also the fantasies of her, the fantasies he'd tried to convince himself that had nothing to do with feelings, even if they did frequently start out with that scene he remembered from his bathroom, when he stood between her thighs and trusted her with a razor at his throat. Together, those things made it nigh impossible for him to look her in the eye and speak to her with anything other than a stiltedness that made them both uncomfortable.  

The nightmares and Sam weren't the only issues, though. He knew he was drinking too much – Daniel was quick to point that out. He knew he was angry and aggressive – Teal'c managed that as best he could in sparring sessions. He was, in short, very much the man that went through the Stargate to Abydos a handful of years before. He may not have just lost his son, but he could still feel the raw pain quite clearly after his ordeal. And pile on top of that the additional hallucinated losses he felt of his teammates and ex-wife, the real loss of Sam, the very real abuse he lived through at the hands of Astarte, and well, he was a shell of a man. 

But he was a shell of a man who had papers that said he was cleared for active duty. He idly wondered how much of the clearance came from pressure from the brass to get him and SG-1 back in rotation. Loaning the other members of the team out had been working, mostly, but it wasn't the same as the formidable SG-1 in action. 

Jack made his way to the General's office and was, surprisingly, able to see him right away. 

"Colonel," Hammond greeted him and waved him into a chair. 

Jack plopped into one of the chairs gracelessly, the paperwork clutched in his hand. "Any chance the joint chiefs have reconsidered my request for retirement?" 

The General frowned, "No. But that doesn’t mean that I'll stop trying. If you still want out..." he hedged. 

Jack looked down at the paperwork in his grip and then handed it over. "I'm cleared for active duty," he said rather than address the General's statement. 

Hammond leaned forward to take the papers from Jack. Jack let them go gratefully. Hammond flipped through them, skimming them quickly. "You're really feeling up to this?" 

Jack swallowed then nodded his head once, definitively. "Yes, sir." 

Lie. 

"Okay then," Hammond said leaning back in his chair. "I'll put SG-1 back in rotation. Your first mission will likely be next week." 

Another week to pull it together. Good. "That sounds fine, sir." 

"I'll let you tell your team." 

Jack had to school the scowl from his face quickly. He didn't want to be the one to share the _happy_ news. But someone had to and he _was_ the colonel. "Thank you, sir." 

Hammond gave him an odd sort of look but it was fleeting. "Okay then. Dismissed." 

Jack nodded once more and pushed himself up out of the chair. He left the General's office and decided to hit the gym. Maybe some punishing time on the heavy bag would do some good for his attitude. If nothing else, he figured, it would be good to work out his aggression before telling his team that the gang really was all back together.  

God, Daniel was going to be so happy... 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

Sam stepped onto the scale and waited for the verdict.  

"You've gained five pounds," Janet pronounced. 

"That's good," Sam said. 

"Not good enough." 

"Janet--" 

"Sam, you're underweight." 

"I feel fine." 

"Blood pressure next," Janet said and directed Sam to sit down on one of the infirmary beds. She took the reading and then said, "Better." 

"See?" 

"Are you getting enough rest?" 

"Yes." Which was mostly true and Janet didn't really need to know that Sam slept best on her couch in the hours just after dinner until the wee small hours of the morning.  

"And enough exercise?" 

"Yes – cardio five days a week, weight training with Teal'c three days a week." 

"And still managing to put on healthy weight. Okay," Janet said tapping Sam's chart, "I am impressed. But I want to see you gain another ten pounds over the course of the next few months. Shoot for about a pound a week." 

"That seems like a lot." 

"Five hundred extra calories a day and keep up your weight training." 

Sam sighed resignedly. "Okay." 

"Ten pounds and you're still at the low end of your healthy weight range, Sam," Janet pointed out gently. "We're just trying to get you back in the healthy range." 

"I know," Sam reassured her friend. She didn't like having to watch her weight but she understood the necessity. She was underweight enough that she could be chaptered out of the Air Force. She was lucky it hadn't come to that yet. She'd been underweight for quite some time. Since Edora, really. Had she had an official physical during that time she'd likely have been put on profile.  

"How're things going, otherwise?" 

It had been at least a week since she'd really had a good conversation with her friend, but honestly, how much more whinging could she do about her situation with Jack before even her friend got tired of listening to it?  

She and the colonel had had a couple of brief run-ins that had been incredibly uncomfortable and it made her wonder how on earth they were going to perform together in the field once he was cleared for active duty. He couldn't even look her in the eye, would he be able to give her an order? But then, she supposed, one didn't need to be able to look a subordinate in the eye to issue an order now, did they? He'd been short tempered enough from what she'd heard to be able to bark any order he liked at her, eye contact or no. 

"Fine," Sam answered, though that wasn't entirely true. But she wasn't going to get into it on base. "Actually... want to have dinner tonight?" 

Janet frowned slightly. "I wish I could but Cassie's got friends coming over for a study group. You want to come to my place?" 

Sam thought about trying to talk about her issues in a house full of gaggling girls. She shook her head. "Maybe some other time, then?" 

"Sure," Janet said with a shrug. 

"Am I done?" 

"Yep! Just remember, ten more pounds. I'll see you back in ten weeks for a follow up. And, well, hopefully before that for a pre-mission physical." 

Sam scowled. She wasn't sure she was ready for that, but it was out of her hands. "Yeah," she agreed anyway as she pulled on her BDU jacket. 

"It'll be okay, Sam." 

Sam just nodded. Yeah, she guessed it would be. After all, the colonel was the colonel – no matter what he'd been through he was still the man she trusted with her life.  

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

Jack pulled the tape off his hands and hissed as the adhesive pulled at his knuckles. He might have gone too hard at the bag after all. If he was being honest, he'd spent the better part of the time he'd been on the bag with his mind on Carter rather than on his form and his physical wellbeing. Despite his best intentions, and despite the box marked _Carter_ , she was never far from the forefront of his mind. For the moment, though, it was because he knew he needed to tell her he'd been cleared for duty and they were back in rotation.  

He could leave it for someone else to do. He could tell Daniel and let Daniel tell her. But something about that felt disingenuous. Especially on the heels of his cowardly act of letting Daniel hand her overnight bag over. Though, in fairness, that had been as much for her benefit as Jack's.  

No, he owed it to her. Actually, he owed it to them both to prove that he could speak civilly to her, that he could separate what they couldn't have from what they did have because, dammit, he didn't have a choice. And if that box marked _Carter_ was worth a damn then really, it should be easy. 

First, he hit the showers. It gave him some more time to think. Really, it gave him more time to hide, more time to collect himself, more time to not have to face her because damn if he had any idea what he was going to say to her. Could he look her in the eye after the things he'd been thinking about her when he was at home, alone? His fantasies hadn't been the tamest, despite the things that had happened to him... maybe because of the things that had happened to him?  

And wasn't that just rich as all fuck? He wanted her, he dreamed of her, fantasized about her but he still felt completely unworthy of her and like the pleasure that welled up inside him at the thoughts of her was somehow forbidden. What would it take to finally disabuse him of that notion? Would he ever be able to be with a woman again? He wanted it... but could it really happen? Because what it really felt like was that he'd end up being a disappointment that couldn't perform properly.  

But really, all of that was neither here nor there because he couldn't have her. All he needed to be able to do at the present was talk to her. To lead her. To command her. The thought sent little frissons of pleasure skittering through his body and what was that all about? He'd never gotten off on the power he'd held over subordinates before and certainly never over the power he held over Carter. But the last time he'd had any power over her he hadn't been thinking of her the way he'd been thinking of her recently. In his bed. Splayed out. His hands on her pale, creamy skin.  

"Fuck," he swore and turned the piping hot water off and reached for his towel. 

Once he was dried and dressed he took a few more minutes to simmer down entirely, his anger having taken its sweet time swirling around with tendrils of lust, before he set off in the direction of her lab. These days he was sure to find her there. She didn't dally in the commissary with her teammates. She didn't seem to do much besides bury herself in her work if Daniel was to be believed. And as much as the younger man seemed to worry, Jack figured he was probably right. Besides, leave it to Carter to self-medicate with science. 

At her lab he stood in the open doorway for a few moments watching her work. She was bent over her lab table alternating between peering at a device and scribbling notes in a notebook longhand. He idly wondered where her laptop was and then caught sight of it, off to the side, hooked up to another device, likely running some kind of diagnostic. She was multi-tasking. Either she was in the zone or she was piling metaphoric pills on top of booze in her self-medication game.  

She swiped at her temple, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and something in the motion caused her to look up enough to see him standing in her doorway. She startled a little and then gaped at him. He cleared his throat but words, not even her name, would come. Finally, she spoke first. "Can I help you, sir?" 

It bit into his insides to be spoken to so formally. He cleared his throat, shoved his hands in his pockets, and took three steps in to the room. "Hey, Carter. Whatcha working on?" 

She canted her head as if trying to figure out if he really wanted to know. 

He shrugged one shoulder and grimaced, made it clear he was floundering. 

"This device is from P5C--" she started. 

He waved her off. "Nevermind." 

"Right," she said with a nod and a disappointed tone. And he wondered if she always sounded like that when he shut her down. Did she actually _want_  to tell him what she was working on? Or was this time different because it would have given them something safe to talk about? For long moments they simply stared at one another. He was counting it as progress because at least they were meeting one another's eyes. Finally, she spoke. "Did you need something, sir?" 

He pulled one hand out of his pocket to pick up a washer off her lab table for something to do. Her eyes were drawn downwards along with his and they spent long moments watching him spin the little disk between his fingertips. He cleared his throat again, it felt like he had something caught in it. His courage, most likely. 

"I saw MacKenzie earlier," he supplied. 

"Oh," she said softly. 

"He cleared me for active duty." 

Her head snapped up and he could feel her eyes boring into his, so he met her gaze. "He did?" 

"Yeah. And I talked to Hammond and we're being put back in rotation." 

"How long until we're up?" 

"Probably next week." 

"Oh. Okay." 

And then silence. He put the washer back down on her lab table and put his hand back in his pocket. He fingered the loose threads at the bottom, scratched at some lint with his fingernail. 

"Are you okay with that?" she finally asked him. 

He contemplated how to answer that question. Honestly? No, that wouldn't really do. Ambigiously? No, she'd see right through him. Best to just outright lie to her. He was good at lying, she'd likely take him at face value. "Yeah." 

She nodded slowly as if assimilating the information. "Okay." 

He thought, perhaps, that this was the least nuanced conversation he'd ever had with her. Straight, formulaic, filled with the facts – and a lie – and no undercurrent. And he suddenly realized they'd always had an undercurrent. Something softer, slightly flirty, maybe. Oh, sure, they'd had plenty of purely professional exchanges, but there was something about their moments one-on-one that had always held a twinge of something slightly more personal. And he'd never even realized it until it was gone. 

He wanted to say something to her, anything that would insert something familiar into their conversation but he realized that this was for the best. They were to be keeping each other at arm's length and there was no sense in making it difficult on one another. And he certainly had no desire to make it any more difficult on her than it already had to be. Because if it was hard for him... He didn't even want to imagine what it must feel like for her.  

"So, finish up with your doohickies," he said tipping his chin in the direction of her work. 

She scowled, and he wondered if she'd always disliked his faked irreverence for her work or if the rift between them had given her license to feel something new. He wondered if she even knew it was faked. He wondered if she knew how amazing he really found her, even if he couldn't begin to understand the things she did. Even if he still had no idea how she did things like, oh, say, rescue him from Edora. Not that he was _ever_ going to bring that up again. 

"I'm going to go tell the guys," he said, pulling one hand out of his pocket and jerking a thumb over his shoulder. 

"Yes, sir," she said, her voice as flat as her eyes. He wondered what was going on inside her. Then he tamped that down. Best not to even care. 

Before he could give her too much more thought he turned on his heels and fled from her lab. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done a bad thing poorly or that he'd somehow done her a disservice. But he chalked it up to his first real encounter with her since their breakup. Things were bound to feel strange between them, right? 

As he made his way to Daniel's office – where he was also likely to find Teal'c – he tried to push thoughts of Sam out of his head. But she stuck there, like a burr. A beautiful, blonde burr that rubbed at the raw parts him and left him feeling cantankerous. By the time he walked into Daniel's office he was frowning. The younger man looked up from his books and met Jack's intense look with a raised eyebrow and a slightly amused look. 

"Let me guess... you finally talked to Sam?" 

Jesus, when did he become so transparent?


	25. Part 3 - Chapter 24

In all fairness, the assigned mission _was_ a cakewalk mission. Jack crossed his arms on top of his P90 and leaned back into his hips. But that didn't mean he was having an easy time of it. His gaze drifted from one small group of natives to another. He was especially aware of their proximity to each member of his team – too close to Daniel, too close to Carter, too much space between the poles of Jack's and Teal'c's protection. Though, if Jack were being honest, the locals were a bit too close to Teal'c, too. 

Sure, they seemed nice and helpful. But then one of them offered Daniel a cup of something to drink and Daniel, always the trusting diplomat, reached out for it. "Daniel!" Jack said sharply. 

The younger man looked at him with wide eyes at the tone of voice. 

Jack gave one quick shake of his head and made a grab for the canteen strapped to his pack and started walking towards Daniel. "Don't take anything they offer you," Jack said lowly when he'd approached Daniel and handed over the canteen.  

"But Jack--" 

"No, Daniel." 

Jack knew his tone brooked no argument. He also knew he was being overly cautious. These people had given them no reason for alarm. But then again, neither, really, had Astarte and look how that had ended up. He'd drank her wine and been psychologically tortured for a month. It just went to show that even the benign seeming planets could pose dangerous threats. And he wasn't going to open his team up to those threats unnecessarily. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Teal'c take a few steps towards Carter and he wondered what that was about but he'd been too focused on Daniel. He'd been too focused on the perceived problematic minutia to see the big picture. That was when he realized that he couldn't do the job he needed to do. No longer able to be fully aware of his surroundings at any given moment, he had to rely on Teal'c to pick up the slack. Not that the big man wouldn't – couldn't – do it, but he shouldn't have to. It was Jack's job to keep his team safe so they could do their actual jobs. Nevermind that Teal'c was, basically, the muscle of the group and a built-in safety measure. Jack's brain wasn't willing to make that concession. 

"Don't you think you and Teal'c are being a little... I don't know... overprotective?" Daniel asked, his voice low in deference to the natives milling about. 

"No." Jack said shortly. 

"A little diplomacy will go a long way in helping us in these trade negotiations," Daniel pointed out. 

"I'm not being undiplomatic," Jack said gruffly, "I just don't want you taking their damned drinks." 

"Look, I realize that this probably has something to do with what happened to you, but--" 

"Can it, Daniel." 

Daniel frowned, never pleased with being told to stop talking and usually generally even further displeased to be told in such a manner. He huffed and dropped to one knee to dig through the pack at his feet. He produced a book that he handed to Jack. "Will you take this to Sam, please?" 

Jack took the book and scowled at it then leveled his gaze at Daniel. "Don't take anything from the locals," Jack reiterated lowly. 

"Yes, sir," Daniel said derisively. 

Jack rolled his eyes and turned on his heels. If nothing else, being the delivery guy for the book meant he got to check in on Carter and possibly find out why Teal'c had felt it necessary to take those few steps closer to her. 

"… and so the geomagnetic field created by the device has an effect on the surrounding instruments," she was saying to a young man who was paying her rapt attention. 

That was when Jack decided they were camping rather than taking the local leaders up on the offer of lodgings. Jack didn't want her any closer to someone who was going to look at her like that than she needed to be for any longer than she needed to be. Not that he hadn't already been leaning that way, anyhow. 

"Daniel wanted me to give you this," he interrupted, impolitely, and shoved the book at her. 

She looked over at him, her eyes marvelously unguarded for a moment, brightly lit, smiling and it socked him in the gut. Quickly, very quickly, she schooled her expression into something more befitting their current situation, though, and he found equilibrium. "Thank you, sir," she said, taking the book from his hand. Her fingers brushed his and he could have sworn he felt electricity pass between them. 

The young man she'd been talking to took a possessive step towards her and so did Jack. Carter looked between the two men and took a step discreet backwards and yet in Jack's direction. He reached out and touched her elbow, just to let her know he was there, available, dialed in to the situation. Jack looked over at Teal'c to see the man's hand tightly clutching his staff weapon and a tight frown on his face. Jack shook his head minutely and watched as Teal'c relaxed infinitesimally.  

"Sir, this is Balvin," Carter introduced, "and he's the Truskin's scientific ambassador." 

Jack grunted noncomitally. He didn't care what the guy's name was. He just cared that the guy was standing close enough to Carter to make her take a step away.  In the back of his mind he knew he should care who the guy was. They were there to negotiate a trade agreement and Jack would need to do his part as the leader of SG-1 to secure a deal. But he didn't trust these people. 

He looked over his shoulder at Daniel and saw the younger man surrounded by natives and felt fear climb up his back. He took a deep breath and tamped it back down. "Teal'c. You wanna go keep an eye on Daniel?" 

Teal'c nodded once and moved off in the direction of the archaeologist, his staff weapon tapping against the ground like a walking stick. 

"Was there something you needed, sir?" Carter asked, as proper as she ever was, back at the beginning before things had gotten comfortable between them.  

"Just, you know, the book," he gestured dumbly. "You need a hand with anything?" 

"Actually if you don't mind I..." she started rattling off a series of things she needed that boiled down to him and Balvin following her to one of their scientific buildings to move crates of stuff away from a centrally mounted device that was apparently creating a geomagnetic field – that much he'd overheard. 

Hours later, when it was time to adjourn for the evening, the leader of the Truskin people, Akully, once again offered Jack accommodations for SG-1. "We've got gear," Jack told the man brusquely. "We'll just camp out here." 

"The nights can get cold, Colonel O'Neill," Akully said, clearly personally affronted that Jack would turn down the offer. 

"We'll be fine," Jack assured him. 

Akully sniffed and looked down his considerable nose at Jack. "Very well." 

He turned away, his white cape whipping around him dramatically, forbodingly, leaving Jack feeling off center as if things were going to go very, very wrong. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

That evening, when Daniel went to drop his stuff in the tent where the colonel had stowed his own gear, Jack stoped him. "Danny, bunk with Teal'c tonight, okay?" The younger man looked at him with confusion but did as asked without question. Huh, Sam figured he was learning. She was confused, though, too. They had barely spoken to one another and they were going to share a tent? Was that really wise considering the fact that not only had they been ordered to suspend a personal relationship but that the other half of their team was aware of that order as well? 

She looked at him sharply but he seemed to be doing his level best to look anywhere but at her. With a resoluteness she was faking more than making, she carried her own pack to the colonel's tent and tossed it inside. 

"Carter'll take first watch," he said predictably, "I'll take second, Teal'c third, Daniel, you can make the coffee." 

"Right," Daniel said. 

They didn't need to hear the rundown. It was the same old, same old. Just the sleeping arrangements were different. She'd always bunked with Teal'c. Daniel sometimes talked in his sleep and made it difficult for Teal'c to achieve Kelno'reem. He didn't need much time, but he did need some so they'd just worked it out so that Daniel slept with the colonel – who was able to nudge the archaeologist when he got to waxing poetic in his sleep – and Teal'c bunked with Sam, who slept still and quiet as a church mouse next to the Jaffa who made her feel pretty damn safe even while off world. 

But not tonight. 

What was going on in Jack's head? Why did he want them to share a tent? Sure he had to know that it was improper under the circumstances. Naturally, neither Daniel nor Teal'c would say anything about it – to them or to General Hammond, but still. And honestly, if they couldn't even talk to one another, what business did they have sleeping together? Or, perhaps, that was exactly what made it safe. But, in that case, why did he want it? He had to have an angle, she just couldn't figure out what it was and she didn't have the guts to ask. At least, not at the present moment. 

After they all had dinner, the three guys filed into the tents leaving her to her watch and to her own thoughts. She tried not to dwell too much on knowing that soon enough she'd be sharing sleeping quarters with Jack. Again. She was actually rather glad he had the watch immediately following hers because it gave her another two hours to collect herself. She didn't really think she'd sleep.  

She must have zoned out, though, because, like clock work, when it was time for his watch, the colonel appeared, boots on but untied, belt on but unbuckled. He looked mussed and rumpled and absolutely delicious – like he always did when it was time for him to relieve her from her watch. Not a thing was different about this change over than any one that had come before it. And yet, it felt different because now she knew what it felt like for those warm arms to be tightened around her. 

"I'm tagging you out, Carter," he said when she didn't move from her place by the fire for the staring she was doing at him. 

"Oh, right. Yes, sir," she said, fumbling over her words. Embarassed to have been caught staring at him. Wondering if he'd actually caught her staring or if he was just muddled from his sleep and wondering, himself, why she hadn't gotten up yet. 

"See you in a couple hours," he said. 

She swallowed at the reminder. "Yes sir," she said again, for lack of anything better to say. She took off towards the tent. Inside the tent smelled like him and the Air Force, so mostly just him. She stripped off her boots and belt and jacket and laid down on the sleeping bad he'd thoughtfully rolled out for her, regulation distance from his own. The night was warm so she didn't snuggle down inside it, instead she turned onto her side and curled in on herself in an attempt to get comfortable. 

The next thing she knew she was waking up to the sound of Jack coming into the tent. He must have heard her breathing change because he said, very quietly, "It's just me, go back to sleep." He didn't sound at all like her CO. As a matter of fact, he sounded just like the man she'd shared a bed with for too short a period of time. She licked her lips against the pang of hurt that shot through her belly. 

She listened as he took off his boots and his belt and as he laid down and got comfortable. She remembered thinking she wasn't going to be able to get to sleep knowing he was beside her but then she was waking up again to the sounds of him struggling.  

She was immediately on alert and then realized he was dreaming. She instantly remembered the night he'd choked her when she'd awoken him from a nightmare and she knew she had to proceed carefully. She switched on a flashlight so she could see a swinging fist if she needed to. "Colonel," she said calmly. "Jack." The sound of her voice seemed to have a bit of a dull sort of effect. He was still struggling but he appeared to be fighting his way up towards consciousness.  

She reached out for his knee, deciding to stay out of reach of his hands, knowing she was safer if he couldn't reach her. She cupped one hand around the joint and squeezed gently as she said his name again, firmer, more loudly, but not so loudly, she hoped, that her voice would be picked up in the other tent, "Jack." 

She murmured nonsense at him as she stroked his thigh, just above his knee, watching as his nightmare released him from its grip. She couldn't help but notice how he was sweating when he pushed himself up into a seated position. "Sam?" he asked, his voice low and confused as he tried to put together where and when he was. 

"Yeah." 

"You're okay," he said and reached for her, hauling her to him, crushing her to his chest. He, for long moments, seemed to forget about their orders. She, however, could not, _did not_ , and didn't return his fervent embrace. She didn't stop him, though, either. She knew the moment he remembered. He stiffened against her and slowly moved her away from him. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled. 

"It's okay," she said as he set her back on the ground an arm's length away. "You haven't been sleeping... have you?" 

His eyes looked guarded before they shifted away and she knew he didn't want to talk about this with her. Talking about this with her was too much like what they weren't supposed to be doing. 

"Jack," she said softly, pulling his eyes to hers. 

He grasped at the back of his neck with one hand. "Nah," he said. 

She sighed and scooched closer to him. "How did you get cleared for duty? Did you lie to MacKenzie?" 

"I did what I had to do," he said resignedly. 

"You were on edge all day." 

He didn't say anything he just let his eyes bore into hers. 

"Why did you do this to us?" She wanted to know, she really did. And then, with a sudden clarity, she knew. "You knew you'd have a nightmare and you didn't want Daniel to see." She sighed again, she wanted to touch him so badly but she didn't think she should. 

"I know this is hard for you," he said apologetically. "And I shouldn't have done it. But after today and how it felt to not trust anybody, I knew..." 

"You don't have to explain it to me." 

His eyes were so deep and soulful, more than she'd seen from him ever before and she felt real pain that he was allowing her to see so much at a time when she couldn't give him what he needed. 

"Do you want to try to sleep again?" 

He just nodded and maneuvered himself back down into a reclined position. She situated herself back atop her bag and then switched off the flashlight. He snagged her hand in the darkness. It was forbidden. It was wrong. But she allowed it, that one tenuous connection between them. Something to ground him. If he dreamed anymore that night, it was silent. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

Jack stepped through the gate and listened to the satisfying sound of the iris sliding closed behind him. Daniel was still shooting daggers at him with his eyes and Sam was giving him worried looks. Teal'c was resolutely handing over his staff weapon to the young SF at the bottom of the ramp. 

"SG-1, welcome home," Hammond said, greeting them in person instead of over the loudspeaker. "I trust we've got a trade deal to discuss in the debrief." 

Daniel shot another glare at Jack and opened his mouth to speak but Jack beat him to it. "No, sir. Things didn't go quite according to plan." 

The smile slid down the General's face into a frown. "What the hell happened, Colonel O'Neill?" 

Jack cringed inwardly. It was supposed to have been a cakewalk, he knew that. This mission had been handed to him on a silver platter. Daniel would negotiate a trade agreement, same as he'd done a handful of times before. Jack's real job was to sit back and make sure nothing bad happened. And nothing bad had happened. He had no excuse to give the General.  

Something must have shown on his face because the General waved him off. "Save it for the debrief. Infirmary first. Debrief in two hours." 

Jack went through the motions of the post-mission physical without his usual personality quirks. It earned him a raised eyebrow from the doc as she drew his blood. She didn't badger him with small talk, though. 

Daniel, on the other hand, wasn't so easily dissuaded. "Aren't we going to talk about this, Jack?" he waned to know as they were leaving the infirmary. 

"What is there to talk about?" 

"How about why the trade deal didn't go through?" 

"I already know why it didn't." 

"We _all_ know why it didn't!" Daniel said emphatically. 

"So, again I ask you, what is there to talk about?" 

"How about why it happened?" 

"Daniel--" Jack said warningly at the same time Sam said, "Daniel, I don't think--" 

"You guys can't possibly be on the same side of this," the younger man said hot-headedly. 

"Why not?" Sam wanted to know, she sounded cool-headed enough to Jack, but she had fire in her eyes and he wondered if it was something everyone could see or if it was something that came with knowing her differently, because Daniel seemed oblivious but that could really just be Daniel. 

"This is why team members aren't supposed to be in relationships," Daniel spit, "because when one does something stupid, the other one shouldn't side with him." Daniel stalked off towards his office.  

Sam's jaw dropped then clenched and it took everything Jack had not to make matters worse by confronting Daniel about what he'd just said. 

Teal'c turned towards Sam and said, "When Daniel Jackson realizes what he has said, he will feel badly." 

Sam huffed. "Yeah, I'm sure." 

"Doesn't matter, his problem is with me. He shouldn't have taken it out on her," Jack said. 

"Perhaps he just needs some time to let his anger fade away." 

Later on, in the debrief, Jack had to tell his commanding officer that the trade agreement broke down because Jack found himself completely untrusting of the locals to the point of insulting them. Apparently not allowing them to give food or drinks to his teammates or be near his teammates without his apparent agitation was more than their egos could bear. They wanted to know why Earth wanted to trade with Trusk if there was no trust to be had between the two lands at all. And, most of all, as it turned out, he was right about the way Balvin had been looking at Sam. And apparently Balvin was related to Akully and Jack being overprotective of Sam stepped on some sensitive toes. 

After Hammond dismissed Teal'c, Daniel, and Sam from the debrief, he said, "So you're saying that your personal feelings, and I'm not just saying your personal feelings for Major Carter, shot this deal to hell?" 

Jack sighed. "I didn't plan this. This wasn't me trying to prove I'm not capable." 

"I didn't think it was, son." And General Hammond sounded genuinely apologetic for the situation that Jack found himself in. Even if he was still a little pissed that the deal fell through. 

"So... what now?" 

"Now I send SG-2 to attempt to clean up this mess," Hammond said. 

"Yes, sir." 

"And you put a tighter lid on whatever's going on with you and Major Carter or I'll have to transfer her off SG-1." 

Jack felt the color drain from his face. She didn't deserve to be punished for her feelings and because he couldn't get his act together. "Yes, sir." 

"I know you don't like this, but this is the way it is. For now." 

"For now," Jack said, clinging to hope that perhaps all this was just temporary. "Yes, sir." 

But the truth was, he wasn't sure how long he could deal with it, even if it _was_ only temporary. 


	26. Part 3 - Chapter 25

Sam stared at the phone in her hand and wondered if calling Jack was a monumentally horrible idea or if he'd be receptive to her overture. Just because he'd spoken to her the night he'd had a nightmare off-world, and just because he'd talked to her a little before the mission, didn't really mean he was ready to open up to her again. But open was what she wanted. She wanted Jack back. She couldn't take the distance anymore. Not after feeling oh so close again, no matter how briefly, no matter how she'd held him at bay. 

She dialed the first half of his number then hesitated. She disconnected the phone. She got up off the couch and paced the floor of her living room, worried her lip with her teeth, pushed a hand through her hair. She dialed again. Disconnected before the phone could ring. Rolled her eyes at herself and huffed, shifted her weight and cocked a hip before dialing one last time. The phone was ringing when she lifted it to her ear. 

He answered on the fourth ring, just before she knew the machine would pick up. "Hello?" 

"Hi," she said plainly, opting against either his name or honorific as she wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to call him under the circumstances. Sure, she'd called him Jack in the tent, but that had felt natural. Nothing felt natural at the moment. 

"Hey," he breathed, sounding relieved. 

It went a long way towards relaxing her and she sunk down onto her couch. "How are you?" It was a loaded question, she knew that. And there were myriad answers. She wondered which one she would get. 

"How long have you got?" The question was reminiscent of one she'd asked him once when she'd been tied up in knots.  

"As long as you need." 

He chuckled, but it was mirthless. "How's forever?" 

Pain shot through her gut and tears rushed to her eyes. She sucked in a noisy breath. 

"Jesus," he said, muffled – wiping his face, likely, "sorry." 

"You made it seem like it was so easy for you," she said and managed not to sound as accusatory as it felt. 

"I did what I had to do," he said softly, "it wasn't easy. God, Sam, you have to know it wasn't easy." 

The tears made tracks down her cheeks. "It was like you had built a wall between us." 

"I did. I had to." 

"But not anymore?" 

He sighed. "I knew better than to bunk down with you, but..." 

"But you knew what was going to happen." 

He was silent for so long she started to wonder if the connection had dropped. Then he cleared his throat. "I'm a selfish sonuvabitch." 

She shook her head at her empty living room. "No, you're not." 

"Yeah, I am. I took what I needed from you." 

"You didn't take anything I wouldn't have freely given anyway." 

"Carter, I felt the way you didn't..." 

She thought back to the stiff way she'd held herself against him. "I couldn't..." 

"I know," he said. Resigned.  

She exhaled, her breath wavering with her tears. "I..." 

"What?" 

She hesitated. "Nothing." 

"Carter," he said richly, in a way that made her toes curl and her insides tingle. How did he do that? 

It did not, however, make her more inclined to tell him what was on the tip of her tongue, clawing at her throat, tightening her chest. 

"Sam," he said softly, the sibilant sound of her name licking at her ear. "Say it." As if he already knew. 

She sighed, "I miss you." God, this call had been a bad idea. 

He breathed deeply. "I can't stay out in the field." 

Her eyes slipped closed. Because she hated it as much as she relished it. "I know." 

"I'm going to talk to Hammond. Tomorrow." 

"And what do you think is going to happen?" 

"Hell if I know." 

"SG-1..." 

"… will be different, but it's not going anywhere." 

She nodded to herself. The niggling thought of being able to have him popped up into the back of her mind but she quashed it quickly. He was 2IC of the entire base. Unless he was transferred out of the mountain he was her CO and that was that. Just breaking up SG-1 wasn't enough to allow them to be together. And besides, he hadn't said squat about getting back together. He hadn't even said he missed her too.  

But the way he'd crushed her to him in that tent spoke volumes. That was not the embrace of a man who didn't care. And then he'd taken her hand in his because she gave him comfort. Was that the action of a man who didn't feel anything for her? It was not. She couldn't believe that. She had to believe it all meant that he hadn't turned his feelings off. He may have boxed them up and filed them away but he hadn't done away with them. 

"You're still a valuable asset to the program," Sam told him. And she believed that. 

He snorted. "Yeah." 

"No," she said sincerely, "you are. The things you've seen and done... your experiences are invaluable." 

"Hammond already has an XO. And flying a desk isn't really my thing anyway." 

"You might have to make some adjustments," she said pragmatically. 

"I could still retire." 

"I thought that was taken off the table." 

"After what happened it just may have to be re-introduced," he said wryly. 

She frowned. He had blown an entire trade deal. There was no telling what could happen. The word was that SG-2 was making progress cleaning up the mess he'd made but it was slow going repairing the relationship. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it." 

Jack huffed into the phone at her nonchalance. "You're not campaigning for retirement?" 

"No, actually, I'm not."  It pained her not to jump at the idea of him retiring. And while she knew it was what he wanted she also knew he was a vital man who had a lot to offer the program and it would be a shame to lose him. So she hoped that Hammond could find a good place for him that fit his new demeanor. "I want what's best for you. And if that turns out to be retirement, then fine, but I still think you have a lot to offer." 

"Carter, I blew a trade deal because some guy looked at you wrong." 

"That's not exactly what happened and you know it," she said exasperatedly. "And so maybe a field unit isn't where you belong now. But there are plenty of assignments with the program." 

"I'm good for one thing, or at least I was. And that's not the case anymore. It's time to put me out to pasture." 

"Well, as it happens, _everyone_ else disagrees with you." 

He sighed but declined to comment further. 

They sat quietly for a few moments until, finally, he said, "Hey, Carter?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I miss you, too." 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

Hammond walked into the office behind Jack and closed the door. "Have a seat," he directed, then walked around his desk to seat himself. 

Jack balled his hands up on his thighs as he sunk into the chair. He didn't know what to make of the General's tone. It sounded like the General had things of his own to say and that Jack wasn't going to get to say the things he'd come to say which boiled down to: I can't do this job anymore. 

The General dove right in. "You've put us in a position with your performance on your last mission." 

"Yes, sir." Jack clenched his fists but was careful to keep a neutral expression on his face and tone to his voice. 

"And the joint chiefs are not impressed with the outcome." 

"I imagine not, sir." 

"However, we all agree that under the circumstances that this situation was foreseeable and likely avoidable had a different team been sent in the first place." 

Jack got the impression that Hammond had been chastised for sending SG-1 to do the job. But Hammond would never directly say so. 

"So, son," Hammond say, his voice and eyes going gentle, "an alternative to field work has been made available to you. I suggest you take it because the alternative negates an otherwise exemplary career." 

"An alternative, sir?" That sounded promising. And very much like he was going to get out of doing the job he no longer felt as if he could do. 

"The academy, Colonel." 

"The academy?" Jack asked, nonplussed. He supposed he understood the concept but he wasn't quite sure what he had to offer at the academy. He had a tough time picturing himself as an instructor. But, then again, he'd only been trying for approximately three seconds. 

"We're gearing cadets up to come directly into the program now," Hammond pointed out. "And your experience would be invaluable. You could put them through their paces. Instead of running special assessments you would have a full curriculum." 

"I'm not a teacher, General." 

"We're not asking you to teach as much as we're asking you to lead and assess. Mock missions, mostly, for now. Survival training." 

"How many cadets are we talking about?" 

"Well, in large part, that will be up to you and the other instructors. We hand pick the cadets we think are suitable for the program and put them through their paces. It's a new program, Jack, we haven't worked all the bugs out yet." 

Jack sighed. "And you think I'm the guy for the job?" 

"I think this is a good move for you under the circumstances. I'd love to keep you on SG-1, but I think we can both agree that it's not the place for you right now. If you want to move back to a front line team one day we can talk about it but--" 

"No, sir," Jack, cut in. "Physically, I'm past my prime. Doc Fraiser's not going to keep passing me much longer anyway, not with these knees. And I think we both know I did what I had to do to pass a psych eval." 

Hammond just shook his head. "Those things are in place for a reason." 

"Hey, he's the one who passed me." 

"There was some pressure from the top," Hammond revealed. "You could have said anything." 

"What? Why? I'm not that important!" 

"Jack, SG-1 has a helluva record." 

"Because of Carter! And Daniel!" 

"And because of you. And Teal'c. You're a formidable _team_. The powers that be didn't want to give that up. But the last mission proved to them that the SG-1 they'd come to rely on wasn't the SG-1 they got back after P3R-289." 

"Then why not just let me retire?" Jack asked quietly. 

"Because we still need access to you, son, I'm sorry." 

"Access?" 

"Between your relationship with the Asgard and your strange ability to access Ancient technology, we can't let go of you as an asset. I'm sorry. I fought for you, I really did. But this is where we landed." 

Jack sighed. "Well, I guess it's better than nothing." 

"There's an upside, if you're looking for one, Jack." 

"What's that?" 

"You won't be under my chain of command anymore." 

Jack nodded slowly, unsure of what Hammond was getting at. 

The General huffed lightly and smirked. "You won't be in the same chain of command as Major Carter. If you're still interested, that is." 

Jack sat back in his chair and opened his hands on his thighs. Wow. It hadn't even occurred to him when the Academy was being offered that it meant he could have Sam back. That is, if she even wanted to try again, after everything. He wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to after all the pain. But, she _had_  said she missed him. And would she have said it if she hadn't wanted him? Or was it just catharsis? 

In truth, though, more time had passed since they'd split up than they'd actually spent together and he wondered if their moment had passed. If it had been squandered. If they could get back what had been between them. He knew his feelings for had only been boxed up, not that they'd gone away, but he had no idea what she'd had to do with hers for him. And then there were the _feelings_ he'd been having for her – the ones he'd thought not to have after his time with Astarte. The ones he still felt guilty, felt _wrong_ about. The kinds of feelings she'd always been careful not to have for him until he'd given her the green light. 

The General cleared his throat and Jack was snapped back into the present, his eyes meeting Hammond's. Hammond had a twinkle in his eye that Jack could only attribute to the way he'd drifted off into thoughts of Sam in the middle of their conversation and how telling that must have been. "I assume you're still interested," the General said. 

Jack cleared his throat. "Yes, sir." 

"May I suggest finding out if she is, too?" 

Jack gave a crooked half smile. The day was over. He could head to Sam's house, talk with her there. It would be nice to have this conversation with her off base. "Yes, sir." 

"I'll tell the Academy to expect you on Monday. Take the next few days." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"Good luck, son." 

Jack nodded and stood up, effectively dismissed from Hammond's office for the last time. But it didn't feel wrong, like he always expected it might. It actually felt... right. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

Sam was in the kitchen washing her drinking glass from dinner when she heard the knock on her front door. She dried her hands on a dishtowel as she walked down the hallway. She set the towel down on the table she used for mail and keys as she opened the front door to reveal Jack standing on her front porch looking slightly nervous. 

"Hey," she said, suddenly a little breathless to see him there. He looked good, as he always did, despite his oversized civilian clothing. "C'mon in." She waved him into the house and stepped back to allow him passage. 

He came in slowly, as if trepidatious, and closed the door behind himself. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" He asked her, sounding like he'd leave instantly if she said yes. She couldn't remember ever hearing him sound so nervous. 

"No." She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and led him through to the living room. She gestured at the couch and he sat, perched on the edged as if ready to get up and bolt as the first sign of... whatever. She couldn't help but grin. "So... what's up?" She wondered if his antsyness had anything to do with the discussion he'd planned to have with Hammond earlier that day. 

"I talked to Hammond today." 

Score. "Good." 

"Yeah." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I've been reassigned to the Academy." 

She felt her heart skip a beat. She'd known that it was likely coming, his reassignment off the team. But out of the mountain? It was immediately painful to think  of not seeing him everyday. "The Academy," she said dumbly, catching up slowly. 

"Working with cadets being groomed for the program." 

"That's... that's a good place for you," she said woodenly. 

"Yeah, it is," he said, sounding hopeful.  

She looked up into his eyes, finding that she'd been staring at his knees. "You're happy?" 

"I'm not _un_ happy. And, as Hammond pointed out, there are some perks." 

"Perks?" 

"We're out of the same chain of command, Sam," he said softly.  

She swallowed slowly. Oh.  

"They can't stop us from being together now." 

 _Oh_ _._  

He seemed to be searching her face. "Say something." 

"Do you want..." 

"Yes." No hesitation. 

She nodded. 

"Don't you?" 

She did. She really, really did. But she was so scared. At first everything about her feelings for him hurt so much and having to keep it hidden was so hard. And then, telling him was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do. But then being with him had been easy, despite everything he'd been through. But she'd barely had a taste before they'd been told to cease and desist. Was it possible to just pick things back up? 

"Sam?" He sounded mildly panicked. 

She raised her fingers to her brow bone and let her eyes slip closed. "I'm thinking. Because of course, yes. But can we? Can we really?" 

"Open your eyes." She felt his fingers close around her wrists and pull her hand down from her face. She let him. She opened her eyes and met his pleading brown ones. "Yes, we can." 

She took a deep breath. She loved him, she couldn't deny that, not to herself, even if she wasn't ready to say the words to him again yet. And love was worth the risk, right? "Okay." 

"Okay?" A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

"Yeah." She felt an answering smile tug at her lips. 

He gathered her into his arms and she wound hers around his shoulders and held on for dear life. If felt like coming home, being in his embrace, smelling him around her, feeling the warm skin of his cheek against her face. He tucked his face into her neck and pressed his lips against her skin. It made her shiver. She threaded her fingers into his hair and directed his face back to hers. She wanted a kiss. He was prepared to give her one.  

Their lips met in a practiced motion that didn't seem weeks removed. Her eyes slipped closed as a gentle moan slipped past her lips. It felt so good, so right, to be pressed against him. His tongue stroked against hers and he tasted just like she remembered, just like the way that make her insides clench and tingle. He slanted his head to deepen the kiss and he made a sound that made her push against his chest so she could insinuate herself more fully against him instead of perching carefully on the edge of the couch cushions. She took his face between her hands, and it wasn't until he held her hips in his that she realized she'd pushed him all the way back into the couch and straddled his lap. That they weren't just kissing, they were making out. She pulled back from him and found she was panting, but he was, too, their breaths mingling in the shallow space between them. She met his sparkling eyes and she started to giggle. He let out an answering chuckle. 

Her worry from before seemed to melt away. There was no longer a doubt in her mind that things between them were going to work. They'd be fine. Not that they wouldn't have their fair share of problems, she was sure they would, especially considering the fact that Jack had his own issues to work through, but they weren't going to be hindered by the weeks they spend ordered apart. That was just a minor blip on their road to being together. 

She leaned back and settled her weight onto his knees as their mirth died down. Soon they were just staring into one another's eyes. Jack's thumbs were rubbing tiny circles against the skin underneath her shirt at her waistband and seriously distracting her from any rigorous though. "I'm on downtime the next couple days," he said idly. "Come stay with me?" 

"I still have to work," she said, one eyebrow raised. 

"So? Two more days and then it's the weekend." 

She'd object, but she liked being at his house, surrounded by him and his things, she always had, even when she was just harboring a crush. Maybe one day that like would go away, but for now, she'd give in to it. "Okay." 

"Yeah?" He gave a boyish grin. 

"Yeah." 

He slid one hand into the back pocket of her jeans. She liked the way that felt. "Go. Pack a bag." 

"Now?" 

"Yeah, now. You got something better to do?" 

She supposed she didn't. Besides, she liked the idea of going home with him. And doing it right away. She liked the idea of spending her night in his bed. She wasn't under the illusion that there was going to be sex, but a night in his arms sounded wonderful, even if her job was merely chasing away his demons. It was a job she took rather seriously. 

She climbed off his lap and he looked a little forlorn like he hadn't realized that was a byproduct of _Go. Pack a bag._  She leaned down and pressed a saucy kiss to his lips. He reached up and threaded his fingers into her hair, anchoring her to him longer than she'd planned, but she wasn't complaining.  

When he finally released her, she was breathless. Again. She stood up and looked down at him, chest heaving, to find that he looked glassy-eyed and breathless, too. "I'll be back in ten minutes. Make yourself comfortable." 

He gave her a lazy grin and reached for the remote control with a wink.


	27. Part 3 - Chapter 26

It took him probably four hard weeks to settle in, to really feel like he was where he belonged, but he figured, all things considered, that four weeks was pretty quick. There were currently nine kids he and the Academy had pulled for this special program but he was told that there could be more. Because they were read into the Stargate program, though, the higher ups wanted to be sure before actually inviting the cadets into the program.  

He was working with seniors, for which he was grateful, but they still seemed impossibly young. He didn't even remember being that young, not really. He had vague memories of being young _ish_ but never, ever that wet behind the ears.   

And they were whip-smart, all of them. Carters and Daniels, each one, as much as they were tacticians like him. The best of both worlds. The program was lucky, training them up like this. Not that Jack didn't think the program would still recruit civilians, he was sure they'd have to if they wanted to keep getting the best and the brightest – not everyone could be enticed by the military. But these kids, he had to admit, were pretty damned amazing.  

But they were still kids and they still had a lot to learn. And he was still a hard-nosed Colonel. Who apparently had a reputation. They were all a little scared of him, he could tell. And a little in awe of him once they'd heard of some of the things he'd done alongside SG-1 over the years.  

What was most surprising to him wasn't that the kids were actually good, though, it was that he enjoyed instructing them. He felt... useful. He felt vital again. He didn't feel like he was going to get anybody killed because damn if the stakes weren't a helluva lot lower. Not that he didn't feel pressure to train them right – he did. But there weren't any Goa'uld right around the corner that were going to snatch them up while he was preoccupied with whatever went on in his head these days. And there wasn't a chance he was going to get them killed or be made to kill them by some megalomaniacal snake-head. And he damn-sure wasn't going to be kidnapped and tortured while instructing these kids on how to survive on a planet halfway across the galaxy.  

As a matter of fact, the biggest worry he had was how many rations to pack on a field trip to the alpha-site next week. Well, the biggest professional worry, anyway.  

He had some personal worries. Like... it had been four weeks and he still hadn't been able to be intimate with Sam. He wanted to be. God, she made him feel more like a man than any woman had in a damn long time and he wanted her, but something inside him made it still feel wrong to want her that way. It was strange to know that the programming he received at the hands of Astarte was pure bullshit and yet still believe it to some extent. Damned strange.  

Sam had tried to talk to him about it a week ago but he found it too embarrassing to talk about – about how he could get erections but that he felt guilty about them. And how he did touch himself but that he felt guilty about that too. And how he felt pleasure but it didn't feel like it used to and how he hadn't made himself come, not since long before his stint on '289. Hell, not since before Edora had he been responsible for his own orgasm.   

And it had been a lot longer than that since he'd spoken frankly with a woman about sex or sexuality. Not since his marriage to Sara had he even had to consider it. And Sara had been... not _prudish_ exactly, because she'd been a sexual woman, she just hadn't been the kind to talk about it, really. Not that they never had, just that it hadn't been something that had come up regularly.  

So when Sam had tried to broach the subject with him, he'd clammed up rather quickly. She'd look embarrassed more to be shut down than she did to have brought the subject up in the first place and for that he'd felt bad. He wanted her to feel like she could talk to him about anything. And he didn't really have a problem talking about sex. He just had a problem talking about the fact that he couldn't seem to have any with her right now.  

Jack picked up a handful of files from his desk and turned off the light in his office. He made his way down the hall, out of the building and across the parking lot to his truck. He tossed the files across the bench seat and climbed in. He had to go over those files tonight so talking to Sam about... _stuff_... wasn't going to happen, but he knew it needed to happen soon. She wasn't going to wait forever. She shouldn't have to wait forever.   

He thought about asking a healthy, vibrant, sexual woman to _not_ have sex for a prolonged period of time in a committed relationship and rolled his eyes. How long did he think he could keep that up? He knew Sam cared about him, but eventually she was going to want the full package, right? And he wanted to give it to her, he really did. He _wanted_ her. He could feel the desire for her, felt it regularly. He got hard and wanting for her. He just also got the guilt and uneasiness, too.  

He thought, briefly, about MacKenzie and wondered if he shouldn't talk to _someone_ about the programming that had been done to him. A sex therapist maybe? But as quickly as the thought came he tamped it back down. He wasn't carrying this particular issue off to anyone. It was bad enough he had to deal with it, he wasn't sharing it with anyone else. But... was it fair to Sam to make her wait it out? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove. No, it wasn't fair. And no he couldn't talk to a therapist of any kind. Not about the sex stuff. Not again. He'd done it once to save his marriage and it had barely worked. He and Sara had barely made it through those months after he returned from Iraq and he would bet money that it wasn't his time with the sex therapist that saved his marriage. Though, if he was being honest, the time with the therapist saved his sex life. It taught him how to deal with what happened to him and how his body reacted to what happened to him. But this... as alike as this was, it was – and the fallout was – completely different.  

He wasn't surprised to find his house dark when he arrived. Sam wasn't there as often as she was there. Sometimes she was at her place, sometimes she was at the mountain. He still had to invite her over and she'd been at the mountain the night before which meant he hadn't gotten to issue an invitation for this particular evening.  

He thought about calling her. He did have work to do, but he could do work with her in the house. He liked her company. But was it fair to invite her over then ignore her in favor of work to be done? She'd understand. But were they there yet? Would she simply find something to entertain herself or did she still expect him to entertain her?  

Truth be told, Jack hated this part of a relationship. It would be so much easier if they lived together. This _dating_ part was tough. He didn't always know where all the pieces went. And he was crap at taking her out. He'd much rather stay in with her. But, as it happened, she was pretty keen on staying in, too. She liked putting on yoga pants and a t-shirt and curling up on the couch with him. She liked throwing on jeans and a work shirt and jumping into whatever project needed to be done. She looked great in whatever she put on to go out to dinner – they'd done that a few times. But he preferred her dressed down, tousled, ready to be touched.  

But, easier though it may be, the living together, there wasn't a shot in hell they were ready for that. Living together implied things his body couldn't deliver on. Not yet. And he wasn't going to write a check he couldn't cash. So, he'd just carry on with the dating. And he'd hope that she was okay with spending an evening with him even if he had work to do. He had to see her, had to spend some time with her. He needed her around. He picked up the phone and dialed her number.  

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  

Sam, while looking down at the cuffs on her jacket, ran smack dab into the solid wall of Daniel's chest as she walked out of the ladies locker room.  

He steadied her with his hands on her upper arms. "Good, Sam, I was looking for you."  

"You found me," she said, slightly wary, still of him, even all these weeks after his outburst after the mission on Trusk had gone bad. In truth, they hadn't really spoken since then, except in a professional context. They'd spoken to one another on missions – she'd commanded a three-manned SG-1 on a couple of routine exploratory missions, first contacts were on hold until they had a fourth, likely a colonel – and in her lab or his going over artifacts or devices found off world.  

"I wanted to apologize."  

"Seems like you've been doing a lot of that," she said.  

He had the good graces to look chagrined. "Yeah."  

She sighed. "Let's just be done, okay?"  

His face fell. "Done... being friends?"  

She reached out and put a hand on his chest. "Done being upset. You said things – a lot of things – that were pretty crappy, some because you put your nose in where it didn't belong and some because you were being an ass. But if you're apologizing, you know what you did was wrong, right?"  

He nodded.  

"So let's just be... done. I'm tired of being angry at you. And I'm sure you're tired of being wary of me."  

"I am," he said, sounding relieved.  

"Okay."  

Daniel pulled Sam into a tight hug. She returned it, though not as tightly and heartfetly as she once would have. She might want their arguing to be over and done with, but she felt disconnected from him and it would take time to rebuild that trust. Daniel, for his part, didn't seem to notice. And she thought that seemed right, after the way he'd been acting over the last several months.  

Her cell phone rang in her purse and she pulled back out of Daniel's embrace. She smiled at him apologetically and pulled the device from her purse. She saw Jack's number and couldn't help the genuine smile that spread across her face. She answered with a soft, warm, "Hello." It was a voice she knew she reserved for him and she caught the interest on Daniel's face.  

"Hey," Jack said sounding slightly nervous. "Listen. I've got some work to do tonight, but I wanted to know if you'd come over anyway."  

He wanted her to come over when he had work to do? Why? Not that she was opposed, necessarily, but what was she supposed to do? Sit there and watch him work? She must have hesitated too long.  

"You don't have to," he said, but he sounded disappointed.  

"No," she said quickly, realizing how much she wanted to be with him, spend the night with him, wake up the next morning with him. "I'll come."  

She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "Good," in that soft, gentle way he had that always surprised her so much.  

"I'll see you in about an hour," she told him. "I'll bring dinner."  

He hummed his pleasure. She sure did love making him happy, and he was pretty damn easy to make happy. "See you soon."  

They disconnected.  

"So... you and Jack..." Daniel said.  

"Yes," Sam said, immediately on the defensive, unsure where he was going with his statement after his little outburst a month before.  

"I'm glad that worked out for you two."  

She lowered her metaphorical hackles. "Me too." She didn't tell him, couldn't tell him all that _hadn't_ worked out yet. That was conversation better suited to a girlfriend anyway, if she was going to tell anyone. And while she'd had plenty of conversations with Janet since she and Jack had been back together she hadn't broken his confidence on how things were – or weren't – in the bedroom. Janet hadn't asked so Sam hadn't had to lie or omit. Sam didn't know what Janet assumed, and that was fine, as far as she was concerned. It was private. Personal. And she didn't feel much like laying Jack's personal issues out for someone else to examine when Jack wasn't comfortable doing the same. Hell, he couldn't even really talk to _her_ about it.  

Sam and Daniel said their goodbyes and Sam made her way to the surface, then home for an overnight bag, then to a Thai restaurant for take out and then, finally, to Jack's house. He greeted her at the door and divested her of the bag of food and pressed a heated kiss to her lips, bags haging from each of their fingers, one hand each gripping the other's hip tightly.  

"Let's eat," he said against her lips.  

"Yes, let's," she murmured, not yet ready to separate from him completely. She swiped her tongue over his upper lip and he claimed her mouth again with a growl. Her overnight back thumped to the floor and she wound her arm around his neck holding him to her. He was hindered by the food he still held in one hand, but he kneaded her hip hungrily with the one hand he had on her body, then he slid that hand under her shirt and up her back, up up to the smooth skin of her shoulder blade. He held her against him so he could ravage her mouth. Moments later she pulled back from him, her breath coming in sharp pants, his head followed hers, lips still seeking hers, and she chuckled sultrily. "That was some hello." She wondered how much of his ardor was him making up for his inability to make love to her.   

"That one was your fault."  

"I'll gladly take the blame."  

His hand slid down her back, out from under her shirt, and down to her ass where he gave one cheek a squeeze. " _Now_ , let's eat."  

"All right," she said with a grin.  

When he turned she let her eyes fall to his backside. She enjoyed the view all the way into the kitchen. She might not be getting laid but that didn't mean she was a nun about it. He wasn't particularly modest anyway. Since that first time when he'd come into the kitchen in the towel, she'd encountered him thusly many more times since and it was driving her crazy to see him that way and not get to have him. But she was a patient woman, and she understood exactly what the holdup was so she was absolutely _not_ going to push. She was going to let him take the sexual aspect of their relationship at his own pace. She just wished she knew what she could do to help.  

She considered talking to a professional about what she should be doing. Her thoughts went back to Janet. Maybe she _should_ mention what was going on with Jack and get Janet's professional opinion about how to proceed. But, Janet wasn't really that kind of doctor and maybe that was sharing too much information with someone he was too close to. Maybe she needed a doctor a little further removed from the situation.  

Maybe she could just try some books on the subject. But most books she'd come across dealt with rape from a female's perspective and definitely didn't deal with the kind of anti-pleasure conditioning Jack had received. She felt like they were in this alone, completely, in uncharted waters. She sighed.  

He turned and looked at her curiously. "What?"  

"Nothing," she said quickly, not wanting to spoil the moment they'd had in his entryway with the direction her thoughts had taken. She gave him a brilliant smile that she knew lit her eyes.  

He relaxed visibly and turned back to the food with a smile on his face. "Okay, then. Let's eat."  

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  

Jack loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and closed the machine. Sam shoved the take out containers into the trash and they were both done with the cleanup at the same time.  

"So," she said clapping her hands together gently, "you've got work to do tonight?"  

"A few more evals from the mock mission today, yeah."  

"Why don't you get started on that? I'll make us some iced tea and then I'll join you. I've got some protocols I can start writing for a new gate diagnostic the General wants."  

"You brought your laptop?" He hadn't expected her to come armed for work, though he didn't really know what he expected her to do while he was working. She wasn't really a television watcher. But he had seen her pick up a book from time to time. Maybe he'd expected her to relax in the bath? But... no... not really her style either. He didn't think. He frowned.  

"What?" She asked rather than answer his question.  

"Nothing. It's just... I guess I didn't know what exactly I expected you to do tonight while I worked."  

She laughed. "I'm just glad you wanted my company even though you had stuff to do."  

He reached out and snagged one of her belt loops, pulling her to him. She came on a stumble and steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders. "Sam, I always want your company."  

"Jack," she scoffed, dropping her eyes, "I know I wanted this more than you. You don't have to say--"  

"Hey," he said lifting her chin with his finger, "you may have come around to this first, but it's not fair to say you want it more." In the week they spent together before being split up he went from being interested in her to being invested in her. In the time they were apart he went from invested to sublimated desire. That sublimate desire, once released, bloomed over the course of the past month into something strong and resilient that he hadn't felt since he'd put a ring on a woman's finger. So, to say she wanted it more was, well, just not true. He watched her eyes fill with tears. "Please don't cry," he pleaded softly. Sam Carter's tears had a way of doing him in, and that was before he had soft, warm feelings for her.  

She bit her lip and blinked rapidly, and sure enough stemmed the tears. "I didn't think."  

"I can tell what you didn't think." He took her face between his hands. "But let me tell you right now, so we can clear this up once and for all; you told me once that you thought you loved me."  

She nodded, still biting her lip.  

It made his insides tighten. "Well, I do love you."  

She had to have known it was coming, and still, she gasped. "I love you, too."  

He threaded his fingers into her hair. "I know."  

"You're not going to tell me that I can't or that I don't know you well enough or that there's something wrong with you?"  

He shook his head. "Would it do any good if I did?"  

She shook her head slowly and gave him a wry smile. "No."  

"Then no."  

She leaned forward and kissed him. He could taste the spicy basil sauce from her dinner, but underneath that he could taste her. When she pulled away from him she looked flushed and happy. "You've got work to do."  

"So we're okay here?"  

"Yeah, we're okay."  

"Good." He pressed one more quick kiss to her lips, just because he couldn't _not_ and then pulled away from her completely. It instantly felt wrong to be disconnected from her, but it would be hard to do his paperwork with his hands attached to her skin. It made him look forward to going to bed with her, to wrapping her up in his arms, to the way she threw her leg over his and snugged up against his side, her breasts pressed against him, her hand on his chest, her head on his shoulder.   

He knew she wasn't naturally a close sleeper, that she did it for him, but he liked it, liked the feel of her body next to his, the rhythmic cadence of her breathing against his skin. He liked the way her hand smoothed against his chest when she felt him tense up in his sleep and the way she woke him when he was having a nightmare. He liked the way she was careful to avoid being hurt. He liked that after that first time how he hadn't hurt her at all.  

He'd been making inroads in his files for a few minutes when a glass of iced tea appeared on the table next to him. He looked up to find she'd changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt, he could tell she'd taken off her bra. She slid onto one of the chairs at the table and set down her laptop and her own glass of tea and opened the computer and caught his eye with a smile. He smiled back. Soon, they were both working.  

A couple of hours passed with the sound of his pen pushing across the page and her fingers click-clacking on the keys of her computer, the occasional soft curse issuing from her lips when something didn't go quite right. That never failed to make him smile because she was always so professional at work that he was surprised the first time he'd heard her whisper _motherfucker_ at her computer. He'd chuckled and peered at her over his reading glasses, she was so intent on the screen that she hadn't even noticed his scrutiny. That had just made him smile harder.  

Finally, he finished his paperwork and pushed the files across the table and away from him. She looked up from her work almost immediately. "Are you done?"  

"Yep. You?"  

"I could be done."  

"I'm going to take a shower, you can have a few more minutes."  

"Five minutes," she said, after a moment of internal debate, as if negotiating with him.  

He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."  

He had his shower and when he came out into the bedroom, she was there, turning the bed down. "You weren't kidding about five minutes," he said, wandering to his dresser.  

"No, but I had incentive. House is locked up."  

"Thanks." He pulled a pair of jockey shorts out of the dresser and pulled them on under the towel that was swathed around his hips. She looked at him with a hunger in her eyes that was unmistakeable. He felt it to his core. He felt immediately aroused and then immediately guilty for not being able to give her what she obviously wanted, what she needed, despite being physically able. She'd be able to tell his body was ready, even if his mind wasn't.  

When he turned around, though, her eyes didn't stray to the front of his underwear, they stayed chest high or higher and then they were back on the bed. Huh. He wondered if that was self-preservation kicking in or if she was trying to be polite. Not that it mattered. When she cozied up to him in bed, she'd feel it.  

He crawled into bed. She did, too. He opened his arm, inviting her into his side, she came willingly and snuggled up against him. Her leg curled over his, her thigh pulled up to his groin and she froze, instantly, when she encountered his obvious erection.  

Damn it, he wasn't going to apologize. _Should_ he apologize since he wasn't going to use it? Fuck all, what was protocol here?  

She shifted her leg away from it and relaxed against him. He relaxed too, not realizing he'd tensed up as well when she'd encountered it. She'd probably felt his tension and known he wasn't planning to do anything about it. Damn it all if that didn’t make him feel like _less_ of a man. "Sam--"  

"Shhh..." she said, rubbing her hand over his bare chest. "Let's just go to sleep."  

He nodded and reached over and turned out the light.  

 


	28. Part 3 - Chapter 27

She was lying in bed, he was standing between her and the dresser, his back was to her and he was breathing deeply. She knew he was attempting to collect himself. Because, in the moment before he turned around, she'd caught sight of yet another very impressive erection that had sent heat and wetness flooding to her center. It had been like this since they'd gotten back together, not that she'd really expected anything different. The time before their split had its own share of sexual issues, but these were beginning to bloom large. 

She was torn. Previously, she'd said nothing and that had seemed fine with him. She'd allowed him to hide his physical reactions to her, or to thoughts of her – or, for that matter, for all she knew, thoughts of other things. They'd both ignored it as if it weren't happening. But that didn't seem to be helping. But seeing the way he turned away from her, the way he visibly vibrated with the tension of collecting himself, gave her the impression that words from her, even supportive ones, would be unwelcome. 

In truth, she was dealing with her own issues. She was dealing with a level of sexual desire that she'd never encountered before. He was fine with kissing and touching and they did that regularly. To the point that she'd be so turned on she could feel the wetness against her clothing, and, at times, she could smell her arousal – which she only found embarrassing because apparently she was far more ramped up than they were taking things. But where she was being left hot and bothered – and to take things into her own hands – he didn't seem to mind the build up and sudden stop. No, a few labored breaths and he was willing to let those truly impressive erections deflate on their own. Shame, really, she thought. 

When Jack turned around this time, though, his eyes were dark, his nostrils flared, and, when her eyes dropped to the front of his jockey shorts, she was rewarded with the obscene outline of said impressive erection, and she'd give him one thing – while he generally ignored them he didn't hide them. Though, she usually turned her gaze away fairly quickly. On this night, she didn't. She looked her fill. She let her eyes drift up his body, over his chest – she loved his chest with its smattering of greying chest hair – to his dark eyes. They were searching hers. 

He walked over to the bed and climbed in next to her. She hesitated to curl up next to him as she did every night, afraid that her lascivious look would be taken as a come on if she were to touch him. He reached for her and hauled her into his body, curling his arm around her, situating her into place, pulling her thigh up over his. 

"I want to talk to you," he said gruffly, his voice thick with something she'd have called arousal under normal circumstances. 

"Okay," she said unsurely. 

"We need to talk about this," he pulled her thigh higher up until it brushed against his erection. 

"Oh." She instantly felt bad for the way she'd been looking at him, feeling as if she'd been putting pressure on him. "I need to apologize to you." 

"What? Why?" He shook his head. "I was going to apologize to you." 

"But I'm the one who's putting pressure on you--" 

"No, you're not. But maybe you should be. You deserve to be." 

"Jack--" 

"Sam, it's been a month. And I still can't... I want to, and I've tried, when I'm alone, but it doesn't... I can't..." He shook his head again and swore lowly, "Fuck." 

She moved to sit up, but he held her in place, like looking her in the eye while they talked about this might be too much. "I'm glad you're trying. I was worried that you didn't. That you wouldn't." 

"For all the good it's done." 

"It might take some time, for things to get back to normal. That's okay. You can't rush it. And a lot of orgasm is mental, too. So if you're overthinking it, or if you're still dealing with what she did to you... Jack, there's a  lot of things working against you here." And she couldn't help but think that maybe he was putting way too much pressure on himself if he was going at it alone. Just him, by himself, with the end goal being orgasm... that was a lot of pressure. Maybe if it wasn't about that. "What if..." But she didn't know how to offer to help without it sounding self-serving. 

"What?" 

She shook her head against his chest, smoothed her hand over the skin, her fingers tangling in his chest hair. 

"Anyway, something occurred to me." 

"Yeah?" 

"You." 

"Me?" 

"I've been selfish. And what's going on with me... it's no reason for you to suffer." 

"I'm not _suffering_." 

He didn't say anything, he just tightened his hold on her. Slowly, his hold on her began to change. The hand that was holding her thigh in place over his erection lightened and began stroking her soft skin, and his other hand curled over around her shoulders and over her arm began to draw circles on her upper arm. She felt her skin begin to tingle in the wake of his caresses.  

So far, he hadn't touched her any differently than he had ever before, though, so she wasn't sure exactly what to read into this situation. And then the hand on her thigh wandered up into her shorts to stroke her backside. He toyed with the elastic edge on her lace panties. It made the tingling intensify. She shifted against him, opening her legs infinitesimally, instinctually. 

"What do you think about?" He asked her, huskily. 

"Hmm?" She asked, distracted by the feel of his fingers inside her shorts. 

"When you take care of yourself... do you think about me?" 

"Oh," she breathed. "Yes." She bit her lip with the admission. Heat flared in her face, though she knew she had nothing to be embarrassed about. He was hers now, fantasizing about him was entirely allowed. 

"So, what do you think about?" 

She felt nervousness war with desire in her belly. She wasn't a shy woman when it came to sex, but how did she tell her former commanding officer exactly what it was that was getting her off these days? It wasn't exactly a situation in which he was in command... 

"Is it my hands?" he asked her. He dipped his fingers into the heated space between her legs, let his fingertips play over the moistening lace. But she made no move, no sound, to encourage him. "No," he decided. 

And to confirm, she shook her head against his chest. 

With a quick move, he had her on her back and he was situated between her legs. "Do you want to be filled? Have you thought about how, right now, I could go as long you wanted?" They were forehead to forehead and he raised his head so he could look her in the eye. She knew her expression was pained because she'd never use him like that. He gave her a sad smile. "No, not that either, then." But he still pressed his hips between her legs so she could feel the full extent of his erection against her now very interested clit and it made her hiss at the contact. 

"So, it's my mouth then." He smirked at her. She could tell he wanted to say something about their ranks, but that he was holding back in an attempt to keep from embarrassing her. He dropped his mouth down to hers and kissed her soundly. His lips worked over hers until she whimpered with how it wasn't enough and he opened to her. She immediately sought his tongue with her own. 

She loved his mouth, was it any wonder that it was her fantasy? His irreverent mouth. She'd watched and listened to it work for years now that she had carte blanche to fantasize about him, she wanted his mouth on her, his head between her legs, and he – despite the things that had happened to him – had an innate ability to suss that out. 

He pulled his mouth from hers and trailed his hot tongue along her jaw and down her neck. She squirmed against him, felt the hard ridge of his penis against the rapidly dampening material of her shorts, before he pulled away to move down her body so he could tongue her breast through the cotton of her tank top. Her nipple beaded up against his tongue despite the barrier of the now sodden fabric and he bit down gently and then with more pressure on to hardened nub until she threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled him away. 

He pushed himself up until he was kneeling between her knees. His eyes flickered to the wet spot of material over her breast and then down between her legs where she knew she was wet too. She wondered if she was wet enough for him to see. He reached out then, and with a knuckle, traced the seam of her shorts up the center of her. The contact made her jump; the movement made him smile. 

With his big hands, long fingers, he pushed at her top until it was gathered beneath her breasts and her belly was exposed. He stroked at her skin until her breath became labored and then he pushed her shirt higher until she was forced to sit up and take it off. She flopped back down onto the bed, topless, her shirt grasped in one hand, the other hand falling over one breast as if to shield herself from his view. All she ended up doing was kneading her own flesh and taking some of the already heady ache away. 

He grunted at the sight of her hand on her own body and soon he was peeling her shorts and underwear down her legs, scooting back on the bed as he worked until he could pull them off entirely. It left him sitting between her feet with a view right down her spread legs. She was suddenly self conscious, though she didn't really know why. She'd known where this was going, and having him look was a lot less intimate than where she knew they were going next. 

So she shored herself up, bend her knees, and planted her feet on the bed, opening herself to him. He went momentarily slack jawed. "Colonel?" she asked in a sultry tone she didn't know she had in her. 

His eyes flickered up to hers and she noticed how the rich brown had melted into black. "Don't move, Major," he said, his command voice firmly in place. It caused goosebumps to break out over her skin. 

"Yes, sir." she purred. 

He arched an eyebrow at her as he tucked himself down between her legs, his shoulders pressing up against the underside of her thighs. The first swipe of his tongue nearly brought her up off the bed. He curled an arm up around her hip and flattened his hand on her belly, she reached down and buried a hand in his hair. 

God, it had been so long since someone else had touched her, it was electrifying. His tongue flicked at her clit first and then fluttered at her entrance, before dragging her moisture up to circle fast and strong around her clit again. She continued to knead at her breasts with the hand that wasn't clutching at his hair. He was relentless. Just when it got to be too much, too intense, and she was squirming away from his tongue at her little bundle of nerves, he was moving back down to lap at her opening.  

When that wasn't enough, he went back to flicking his tongue over her the most sensitive part of her as he slid first one finger and then two deep inside her. He stroked her once, twice, three times deeply before catching the spot that made her hips arch off the bed. He sucked at her clit as he massaged that spot. She mewled with pleasure, her voice high and keening, but she couldn't control it for the sensations he was creating. This was so much better than what she had been able to do for herself. 

He took her to the edge once, twice and then, just when she thought she was going to have to kill him, she felt herself approach the precipice of pleasure and with a deep breath, he sucked her into his mouth one final time. She shattered underneath him on a sob of pleasure. Her fingers tightened in his hair to the point it must have been painful but he didn't relent. She felt herself flood with fluid around his fingers but he just continued to stroke her gently. 

When it was over, she felt completely wrung out. Her fingers were cramped in his hair as she worked to release him. He was looking up at her from between her legs and stroking her lower belly with his dry fingers. The wet fingers she could still feel between her legs, only still and curled into a fist against her. 

"How do you feel?" 

"That was..." She had no words. She beckoned him up her body and he came willinging, sliding his body along her hypersensitive one. She kissed him long and deep, reveling in the taste of herself on his tongue, so intimate. 

"I think I can sleep now," he said. "You?" 

"Hmm," she moaned. "Definitely." Her eyes drifted shut as she felt him situate himself on his side of the bed. Through her eyelids she saw the light go out. Her eyes flew open. "Wait a minute. We still need to talk about--" 

"Tomorrow," he said gently. "Tonight should have been about you." 

"Tomorrow," she promised. 

She curled up against him, her naked breasts feeling so sensitive against his bare skin, and went to sleep. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

Throughout the next day Jack was on a sort of high from having touched her the way he had and yet he had a deep feeling of trepidation that he'd done something he wasn't supposed to have done. He had no idea where such a feeling came from because if it was his mother fucking _programming_ then all he'd done was _give_ pleasure. And that should be all right. Still, he felt equal parts proud for doing what he was supposed to have done as her man and weak for feeling like there was some reason he shouldn't have done it in the first place. 

It made his whole day go a little off kilter. He found that he focused just fine on his tasks but that his mood wasn't great and that the kids got the sharp side of his tongue more often than was probably strictly necessary. He had a reputation for being a bit of a hardnose, but he was pretty sure he'd be the talk over chow that night. 

He thought a lot about her and how she was feeling that day. He wasn't naïve enough to think it was the first release she'd had since they'd been together but he liked to think that it was one of the better ones and that she'd been reminiscing throughout the day. He hoped she was looking forward to the next time he put his hands on her, even if he did think he was going to have to psych himself up for it. 

But by the time they both made it home from work, it was getting on past dark and they were both a little wrung out and dinner was rushed and dishes were washed perfunctorily and getting into bed was done by rote. And to top it off, he'd carried work to bed with him for the first time that he could remember. Of course, he'd never really been a paperwork guy, but now he had files upon files that required his review. And he was behind. 

He propped himself up in bed and slid his glasses on before flipping the file open in his lap. She let him work for about five minutes during which she seemed to lie next to him and just watch him. 

But then she sidled up next to him. "Jack?" 

"Hmm?"  

"Do you need to do that right now?" 

He snuffled then peered over his glasses at her. "What? Oh. No." He set the folder aside and gave her a smile. It could wait, especially if she had something on her mind. 

She reached up and divested him of his glasses and leaned over him to put them on his nightstand. "I think we owe each other a conversation." 

He frowned at her a little, prepared to argue. He wasn't sure he wanted to get into it tonight, not what she had in mind. Not a conversation about what had happened to him. Again. 

She leaned up and kissed him soundly. When she pulled away he followed her with his head, his lips staying with hers until the last possible moment. "I promise you want to talk to me." 

"After everything I've already said, I can honestly say there's nothing I wouldn't talk to you about, but Sam, what's left to talk about?" 

"Well," she said with a pragmatic tone, "a lot. You still haven't told me exactly what you dream about, but I'm willing to wait, especially since you seem to be doing better with that." 

"Because of you," he said quietly and reached for her hand. 

She flushed under his praise but continued, "And I still don't know exactly what Astarte did to you once she took you out of the cell where you were drugged with Sokar's Blood. Aside from--" 

"Right," he said cutting her off. 

"And I'm willing to wait until you're ready to talk about it, all of it. But we need to talk about the part that's affecting you right now. The part that's affecting _us_." 

"The fact that I can't..." He gestured helplessly at his groin. 

"Orgasm," she supplied. 

He pulled a face. "Yeah." 

"I don't need to be able to to keep you satisfied." 

"No," she said, "you don't. But I want you to be satisfied too. I have a vested interest in your satisfaction." 

"Sam, I may not ever be able to--" 

"I don't believe that. I _do believe_ it's matter of, for lack of a better term, reprogramming you. We have to teach you that it's okay for you to feel that pleasure. And that it's okay for the pleasure to reach its natural culmination." 

"I _know_ that." 

"I think that you do," she said gently. "I'm just not sure you really believe it." She smoothed her hand down his arm and took his hand in hers. "She did powerful things to your head, first with the Blood of Sokar when she broke you down until you didn't care about anything and then later with other substances and however else she did it until you believed what she told you about you being her tool, Jack. But you're not. You're nobody's tool. You're a man and you deserve all the same pleasures you give so freely. 

"The way you made me feel when you touched me... I want you to feel that way, too. When you touch yourself, yes, and when I touch you, too. And I can't help but think that maybe... maybe letting me touch you is how you get over this hurdle." 

His eyes, which had been on their hands, flew up to hers. "You want to..." 

"Yes." 

"Why?" She wanted to touch his broken dick? To what end? How fun could that be for her? 

"Because I think it really is mind over matter. And I think knowing that I want to give you pleasure will help you find the release you can't find on your own." 

"Because she _didn't_ want to give me pleasure..." 

"But I _do_." 

"I can't make you any promises." Was he really going to agree to this? 

"I'm not asking for any." 

"How do you want to do this?" Apparently he was. 

"Well, first of all, you could try to sound a little less like you're getting ready for a root canal," she said with a small smile. "And I thought we'd start by doing the same things we usually do to turn you on." 

"You turn me on," he said huskily. "Just by being you." 

She flushed prettily but she advanced on him predatorially. She moved to kiss him and he opened his lips to receive her, but first she flicked her tongue out and licked at his top lip. Okay, that was good. He was very interested in that. He reached for her waist, pulled her into him as much as she'd let him, but she was in control of the kiss. He didn't mind. She was doing a damn good job of nipping at his lips and then soothing them with her tongue then pulling at his lips with hers. She was a good kisser. A _really_ good kisser. He liked that about her. 

Too soon, though, she moved on from his lips to trail hers along his jaw, to tongue that spot behind his ear that always revved him up. She nipped at that place on his neck that always made him make that embarrassing sound she liked. She ran her hands across his chest, rubbed her thumbs over his tightened nipples, and suddenly the sensations were all too much for his body and he realized he was hard. Not getting hard, not a little hard, but hard and ready and thinking about what it would be like to slide inside her warm and willing body. But he was pretty sure that wasn't where she was going with things this night. It was nice to have that thought, though, considering he hadn't really seriously considered it before, despite dating her for more than a month. 

She let her hands trail down his body. He tensed when she got near his groin but not because he was afraid of being touched but because he was ready to be touched. She bypassed his erection, though, to skim her fingers along his thighs. She toyed with the edges of his jockey shorts and the hair on his thighs. She kissed him again as her fingers slid up under the cotton of his shorts and bunching the fabric up until her fingers could stroke at his hip. Her tongue stroked at his. 

She pulled her hand out of his shorts and her delicate fingers drifted over the front of his shorts, lightly dancing across his erection, giving him no relief whatsoever. She teased him for long moments, continuing to kiss him deeply until, in the moment just before he thought he was going to lose it, she stroked downward with the palm of her hand from the tip of his cock to the base, applying delicious pressure through his shorts to his needy hard-on. He groaned into her mouth. God that felt good. 

She stroked him through the cotton until he felt himself begin to leak precum that made the fabric uncomfortable. "Sam," he mumbled against her mouth. He moved to push his own shorts off and she looked down and noticed his predicament and what he was attempting. She helped him off with his shorts and then, god help him, blinked slowly and hummed her approval at the sight of him, hard and heavy, dick lying against his belly. 

His tip was shiny with his own fluid and she reached out to touch with one fingertip, swirling the clear fluid over the head of his cock. He grunted with pleasure. Guilt stabbed through him. He tamped it back down. This woman was giving him a gift, damn it, he was damn well going to take it. She wrapped her entire hand around him and squeezed gently. His eyes rolled back in his head and his head dropped back onto the headboard.  

He felt her moving on the bed so he opened his eyes and watched as she moved to straddle his thighs. It was odd, a little, to see her sitting there in her pajamas while he sat naked in front of her, aroused and on display, his erection in her hand, but at the same time, it felt... fine. This was Sam. Sam was safe. 

He watched as she lifted her free hand to her mouth and licked her palm. Oh, he knew what was coming. And he was looking forward to it. She reached for his dick and with her lubricated hand she began to pump him slowly. He lost the battle with his eyes and head again and ended up looking at the inside of his eyelids with his head tipped back against the headboard. He wanted to watch her work, oh how he did, but the sensations she was creating were incredible. It wasn't that it had been so very long since he'd had another woman's hands on him, but it hadn't felt like this with Laira, he wasn't afraid to admit to himself. 

She stroked him confidently for long moments. He felt himself puddle into the pleasure but still the feelings of guilt warred with the feelings of euphoria until it became clear to them both that he'd reached a plateau of pleasure that he wasn't going to crest. It began to frustrate him and he started to fidget under her hands. 

"Jack, it's okay," she said soothingly. 

"It's not that it doesn't feel great," he said. He gestured at his dick and the precum that he kept producing proving he was interested – very interested – in what she was doing.  

"I know. You've got to let go." 

"I'm trying." 

"You have nothing to feel guilty about," she told him. "You've done nothing wrong. You deserve this pleasure. You're a good man, Jack," she said the last reverently and while looking into his eyes. And then, she leaned over and took him wholly into her mouth. 

"Shit," he bit out, having not been altogether prepared for the sensation of her hot, wet mouth around his oversensitive cock. She laved him with her tongue and then sucked at him gently, never putting any painful sort of pressure on him, apparently aware that at this point he _was_ oversensitive. She flicked her tongue against the weeping slit at his tip and his hips rose off the bed. "Sam," he gasped her name, over and over. 

She hummed around his dick as if sucking him off was giving her as much pleasure as it was giving him, and boy was it giving him pleasure. He'd gotten a lot of blow jobs in his life but he didn't remember them feeling like this, he didn't remember ever feeling so sensitive. Maybe it was because it had been so long since he'd come.  

Suddenly, like it snuck up on him, he felt the tingle in his balls that signaled impending ejaculation. He didn't quite believe it, though. However, many years and many lovers had taught him many lessons and he touched the back of her head. "Sam," he warned, "I think..." 

"Go ahead," she said, and resumed sucking at his rock-hard member. 

It didn't take much more than that and he felt the way his balls contracted, he remembered the sensation as it rushed through his body, the feeling of complete and utter release and euphoria as it centered in his cock and rushed into her mouth – he came. All that pent up desire, emptied into her willing mouth. And she held steady there, one hand on his thigh as he jerked under her, until he was done. 

He watched, transfixed and a little turned on even still, as she swallowed him down. Then she turned her face to him and smiled. "And you were worried." 

He smiled back at her, boneless and wrung out. "Can't imagine why." 

"Think you can sleep now?" She asked him, reminiscent of the night before. 

"Yeah. You?" 

"I think I'm going to sleep very well." 

"Me too." 

When he woke up the next morning he realized he hadn't dreamed.


	29. Part 3 - Chapter 28

Jack was home alone on Sunday morning when the doorbell rang. Home alone because Sam had some gate diagnostic thingamajig and there were no teams scheduled to depart or return and it just worked out that he had to give her up on one of their rare days together. So as it happened, the doorbell's ring was a welcome sound because he was, well, bored. 

He got up from his place on the couch and answered the door and was surprised to find, of all people, Daniel, standing on his doorstep looking a little nervous. "Hi," the younger man said. 

"Hello." 

When Jack didn't immediately shift to admit him, Daniel huffed a little. "Can I come in?" 

"You gonna say something stupid?" 

"Wasn't planning on it." Daniel adjusted his glasses nervously. 

"Then sure, come on in." Jack stepped back and Daniel entered the house. "You want a beer?" 

"It's, like, ten thirty in the morning." 

"That a no?" 

Daniel didn't grace him with an answer, Jack just shrugged and led him through to the living room. 

"I know you and Sam are back together." 

"Okay." 

"I didn't really mean what I said--" 

"Yes, you did. You were mad because I fucked up and she sided with me instead of you and you thought that she did that because she had feelings for me. Which wasn't exactly true, by the way, but that's neither here nor there." 

"She did side with you because she had feelings for you." 

"It wasn't about her having feelings for me. It was about her being my second in command. But I wouldn't expect you to understand the distinction." 

"I'm not sure you do." 

"You're saying stupid things," Jack growled. 

Daniel raised his hands in supplication. "Sorry, sorry." 

"We're clearly going to have to agree to disagree on where the lines exists on the Sam front," Jack said. "And I think it's safer if you didn't mention them anymore. She is... _was..._ your friend, you know." 

"I know," Daniel said softly. "I really never meant to hurt her. To hurt either one of you." 

"Then what's your problem with the two of us being together?" 

"I don't know? Maybe... maybe it's because... SG-1 isn't..." 

"I know Hammond hasn't assigned you a permanent CO yet, but he will. And you will adjust. And it'll be fine." 

"Teal'c is talking about leaving." Daniel confessed in a rush. 

That surprised Jack. And he'd hate to see it happen, but he understood it, too. In large part, the alien's loyalty was to Jack first, and the SGC second, even if it said otherwise on paper. "Daniel, nothing stays the same forever. And you can't be mad at Sam because she chose to have a life. What did you want her to do? Spend the best years of her life pining for something? Isn't this better? She gets to have the Stargate program, the Stargate program gets to have her, and... I love her." 

"She loves you, too," Daniel said softly. 

"So that works out pretty good, huh? So, if Teal'c goes, and things change, it might not all be bad. SG-1 was a helluva ride the way we got to do things for so long, but it was a _long_ ride, too, Daniel. Longer than most. And we should be grateful we got to go on it." 

"Are you? Grateful?" 

"Yeah," Jack said without hesitation. 

"Despite everything that happened to you?" 

"I ended up here, and I'm happy here," he said and he realized, as he said it, that it was true. Things weren't perfect, and he had some real work to do, but it was true. He was happy. 

"How can you say that?" 

"Why shouldn't I be able to?" 

"Jack... you were tortured." 

"I _know_ that," Jack said and rolled his eyes. "But it's over." And there was more to life than the things that happened to him. He figured he could choose to live in that past or he could live in the present. He wasn't saying that he still didn't have to deal with what happened to him. Or that there weren't still bad moments, hell, bad days. But he was happy to live this life, with Sam by his side, and he didn't know if he would always get those things. He knew how easy it was to have everything he loved ripped away. And it was easy to want to be pessimistic and think it was going to happen again. But he couldn't live like that. He had to live one day at a time and he had to live in joy – especially if he wanted to keep Sam. And he did. 

"I'm sorry I made this harder," Daniel said. "I really am. I know I owe Sam more apologies than she'll probably ever accept from me..." 

"She'll forgive you for how hard you made it, in time. When the memory isn't so fresh. She just needs time. You might have to work to regain her trust. But you guys were too good of friends for this to completely derail your friendship." 

"You think?" 

"Yeah, I do. You said some really boneheaded things," Jack said and looked very pointedly at Daniel who had the good graces to blush, "but I don't think you did any of it with any real malice." 

"I didn't," he said quickly. 

"I also think, at first, you really were trying to help." 

"I was!" 

"But let this be a lesson to you – you're a lousy matchmaker." 

"Yes. Yes, I am. But I always kind of thought that maybe you had a thing for her too. And it looks like maybe I was right," he said with a mischievous smile. 

"Daniel," Jack said warningly. 

"What? You can't even admit it now?" 

But Jack had been thinking, lately, and maybe Daniel was right. Maybe he'd had thing for Sam long before he'd been willing to admit it, even to himself. It didn't matter, anyway, he reasoned, it didn't change the way things turned out. They were together now, and that was all that mattered. Right? 

"Anyway," Daniel said, "let's just... can we just... bury the hatchet. I miss my friends." 

Jack considered him carefully. He didn't really seem all that less likely to say stupid shit, but he really didn't seem to be doing it out of a place of hate. He just didn't seem to understand the dynamics between Sam and Jack. Which... okay, maybe that would take a little getting used to. He stuck out his hand and a relieved Daniel reached out to shake it. "Okay." 

"Good." 

"But you're going to have to square yourself with Sam." 

"I already have. We have tentative peace," Daniel assured him. 

"See that you maintain it." Jack warned. 

"Right," Daniel said, with a gulp. 

"Because we're friends, but if you hurt her... all bets are off." 

Daniel nodded, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Got it." 

"Good. Now... I was thinking about driving over to grab Cassie and heading over to the park for a bit. You wanna go?" 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

"I think you should consider seeing a therapist," she said to him while her hands were kneading his shoulders and her legs were wrapped around his waist. She didn't know how he was going to take her pronouncement, but the truth was, he was still having guilt after they'd fool around. He was climaxing, and his climaxes were powerful, but he was still not connecting with her entirely and he was still shying away from her some and she knew it was the guilt that was weighing on him. 

"Sam," he said, sounding resigned, "we've talked about this--" 

"We've talked about MacKenzie. What about one of the Academy hospital therapists? Someone who's familiar with the program but who might be better equipped to handle your particular problem. Someone with a... softer approach. Someone who might deal more with... sexual issues." 

"I've been through sex therapy once." 

"And it helped." 

"It helped me be able to fuck my wife again," he said volitatitively.  

"Well, for what it's worth, we still haven't fucked," she said hotly. She took a deep breath. "It's only been a week, and I'm in no rush," she said as soothingly as she could. "But we both know you're still battling some guilt. And I don't want you to feel that way. I know this is a completely different situation than what you dealt with after Iraq," she flinched a little after she said the verboten word, but she remained resolute, "but I still think you'd benefit from a little outside perspective." 

He wrapped his hands around her ankles. "And what if I don't want to go?" 

"It's not a deal breaker, Jack. I just think it would be helpful. I want things to be normal for you." 

"And if I think I just need time?" 

"I'm willing to give it to you." 

He sighed. 

"You shouldn't have to." 

"So does that mean you'll go?" 

He fidgeted in the circle of her legs. "It means I'll call. Tomorrow. I'll at least see what's available." 

She wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed him. Pressed her lips against his shoulder blade. "Thank you." 

He pulled her around him so he could look her in the eye. "Therapy might not fix me." 

"But it might. We won't know unless you try." She threaded her fingers into his soft, grey hair. "And I really do think it'll help. If nothing else, it'll be somebody else telling you that you have _nothing_ to feel guilty about." 

"I believe you. I do." 

"In your head, I think you do. But I think in your heart, there's a part of you that doesn't think you're worthy. That same part of you that hallucinated all the horrible things you did? I think that's the part of you that you have to convince that it's okay to take what you're being given." 

"Is all of this some sort of ploy?" 

"A ploy for what?" 

"To put me back together and get me back on a field unit?" 

"I know you're going to find this hard to believe, but I don’t want you on a field unit. I want you at the Academy, training recruits. SG-1 has a shiny new colonel as of today. Teal'c agreed to see how things work out. Daniel's... playing nicely. I have everything I could have ever dreamed of. Do I miss you out there? Absolutely and every single day. But if I had to choose, you out there or you here? I'd choose you, _here_ , every day of the week." She leaned forward and kissed him soundly. 

"I don't miss getting shot at," he said wryly. "And I like being chosen." 

"Thank you for agreeing to talk to somebody. I know it's not your first choice, and I know you're mostly doing it for me." 

He shrugged one shoulder. "If it's important to you," the _it's important to me_ was implied. 

She looked at him very seriously for a moment. 

"What?" 

She shook her head once, a wistful smile on her face. "I love you." 

They weren't the kind to say it often. "Yeah?" He said, a satisfied grin playing about his mouth. 

"Yeah." 

"I love you, too." 

He hauled her into his lap and showed her, with his lips and his tongue, exactly how much. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- 

When Jack walked into the house it was past dark but the house smelled like the dinner he'd put in the slow cooker and the lights were on in the living room and it felt so damned good to be coming home to somebody that it almost didn't matter that he'd spent an hour in _therapy_. He'd had the drive home to really collect himself and for that he was grateful because his therapist, Ethan, hadn't really pulled any punches. 

Jack had vacillated, really, on whether or not he wanted to talk to a man or a woman about what he'd been through. Did he want to talk about problems with his dick with a man or a woman, was what it boiled down to. Ultimately, he decided it would be easier to talk to a man, because there were things he just wouldn't have to explain. Ethan was a nice enough guy. Youngish, blond hair, going grey. Tortoiseshell glasses that lent him an academic sort of look. Apparently had a thing for polo shirts and boat shoes. Left him with a casual sort of out-on-the-docks look that made Jack feel like, yeah, he could talk to the guy. Like maybe they were gonna get on a boat or something. 

So Ethan had asked a lot of questions, surprisingly most about Sam and how Jack was doing with that relationship. Oh, they'd delved into Astarte and the drugs and the programming and forced sex – as it turned out he had trouble with the word _rape –_ and he felt like maybe he'd gone a few rounds with a boxer by the time it was done. 

"I'm home," he called out as he tossed his keys onto the little table near the door. 

Sam appeared, barefooted and warm looking. She snaked her arms around him, pressed her lithe body against him and her lips to his. She kissed him hello sensuously in a way that awoke parts of him he was sure he wasn't going to need that night – not after the conversation he'd had with Ethan. "Hi," she whispered against his lips. 

"Hi yourself. What was that for?" 

"Consider it a thank you for doing something I know you didn't want to do." 

"Is that how you're going to thank me after every session? Because I can see a Pavlovian response developing here..." 

She chuckled lowly. "Maybe. Maybe I'll get more creative." She trailed a hand down his chest and then snagged his hand. She led him through to the kitchen where she busied herself taking up two plates of dinner. "Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather not?" 

She didn't seem to be pulling for him to spill his guts, she just seemed to be trying to be supportive. "I don't think so," he said. "I think I'm all talked out." 

She smiled at him. "Okay. No more talking. How about I talk? You can just listen." 

"Sounds good." 

Over dinner she told him about what had been going on at the mountain lately. She filled him in on things with Janet and Cassie. She told him about Colonel Brock and how he was settling into SG-1. She told him about her newest gadgets and gizmos. She's just... talked. And he let the sound of her voice wash over him. He let her center him. 

The more he listened to her, the more he thought about her. And the more he thought about her, the more he wanted her. He thought about his conversation with Ethan and how they'd discussed what his hangups were and how to get over his hurdles and he thought, maybe it was just a matter of doing it. He wanted her. He _really_ wanted her. And maybe things wouldn't be perfect, but they had to start somewhere, right? 

"Sam?" He asked, interrupting something about Cassie and a fieldtrip. 

"Yes?" 

"I want to take you to bed." 

She looked at him, startled. "Um, okay. It's a little early, though... and--" 

"No, I don't want to _go_ to bed, I want to _take you to bed_. It's time." 

Her mouth made a little round o. "Let me just put the food away." 

"I'll help," he said, not wanting her to dawdle.  

Together they cleaned up the mess from dinner and soon, they were standing, facing one another in the bedroom. She smiled at him and then giggled. "I'm a little nervous." 

"After everything we've already done?" 

"Yeah, but, now we're standing here, staring at each other like something special is supposed to happen." 

"Ah. Well. Something special _is_ going to happen." But rather than give her a chance to reply – or to continue to overthink things – he stepped forward and captured her lips with his.  

She relaxed into him immediately, her lips becoming soft and supple under his, her tongue immediately succumbing to the dance his started. Her arms wound around his neck, his hands immediately went to the buttons of her blouse. She smiled against his mouth, but she didn't stop him. 

He unbuttoned her buttons one at a time, slowly, stroking the skin he revealed in a way that made her gasp. When he peeled her shirt off her shoulders she reached around to unhook her bra. He tried not to leer at her, but he wasn't sure he was completely successful. He might have gotten to look at her naked whenever he wanted, but it was still a new enough concept that it felt a little illicit when it happened. She dropped the bra onto the floor with a small smile. 

He covered her breasts with his hands and marveled with the way his hands spanned the warm flesh, and the way her nipples pressed against the centers of his palms. He noted the contrast of his tanned skin against her the paleness of hers and the way her heat seemed to radiate into him. He tested the weight of first her left breast and then the right and then he leaned down to take a peaked nipple into his mouth, rolling the nipple over his tongue. She made the hottest little sound when he bit down gently and then made a deep, husky sound when he sucked. 

While she was distracted  he reached for the button of her jeans. He had her pants and underwear pooled on the floor while she was still whimpering over what he was doing to her breasts. He helped her step out of her jeans and then backed her over to the bed. He laid her out across the comforter, propped her up against the pillows and then stepped back to undress himself. 

He yanked his shirt over his head, not at all concerned with how he got his clothes off as long as he got them off, but then he caught her eye and he noticed that she was watching him with deep desire and her hands trailing sensuously over her body. To that end, he slowed down. He wasn't a man for strip teases, but he didn't have to be perfunctory about it, either. He stripped off his slacks slowly and reveled in the way her eyes latched on to the front of his shorts. He was already half hard and it showed. He hooked his fingers into his shorts and pushed them down his legs, then he pulled off his socks. He stood before her, naked, for a long moment, letting her look her fill. Watching as she ran those capable hands over her body. It did things to him, watching her touch herself. He growled and launched himself at the bed. 

He stretched out next to her and let his hand wander in a path just behind hers. They made a game of it. Her hand swirled around her breast, his hand swirled around her breast. Her hand dipped between her legs and stroked the soft skin of her inner thigh, so did his. She drew circles around her belly button with the pad of her middle finger, so did he. And through it all they kissed, wetly, their tongues dueling, meeting between their mouths, their teeth nipping at their lips. 

He grew very hard against her hip, leaked precum against her and she wriggled against him, let him thrust against her smooth skin. He looked down and loved the way he was marking her, but it was time to be inside her. He was throbbing for her. 

He rolled over so he was on top of her, insinuated himself between her thighs. Normally, he'd have rolled over onto his back, would have let her be on top for this first time, to let her control everything about the way she took him inside, but the memories of his time with Astarte were too fresh after his conversation with Ethan. So, no, this time, he needed to be the one in control. He met her eyes and she nodded minutely, as if she understood. Maybe she did.  

He reached between them to test her readiness with his fingers. "Oh," she breathed before he could touch her, "I'm ready. I'm so ready." 

Something about that made him impossibly harder. To think, just from his touches, just from his kisses, she was oh, so ready for him. He grasped his cock and guided it to her opening. He pressed inside her, slowly. He felt her wetness break and gush around him as he entered her. She was wet. So very, very wet and god, but was that a turn on. 

"I love you," he breathed as he pushed inside her all the way. 

She kissed him, then kissed his forehead, then threaded her fingers into his hair. 

He drew out of her and slowly pushed back inside. 

"Harder," she breathed. 

He'd been worried about hurting her, with her not controlling his entry, but apparently that wasn't going to be a problem. He withdrew and then thrust back inside. 

"Oh," she moaned. "Yes." 

He continued to thrust into her and pull back out with the same intensity that made her make that sound that made his balls clench and his back tingle.  

When he felt like he was barely holding on with a thread, he kissed her roughly then ripped his mouth from hers. "Are you close?" 

She reached between them and fingered her clit. "I'm close," she confirmed 

He could hold on, he could wait for her. The sweat was beading up on his back, but he could wait for her. He could feel orgasm clawing at him, sweet and dark. He could smell them together, rich and pungent in the room, and it was so satisfying. 

She made a keening sound and he felt her inner walls begin to clutch at him. She gasped and then she moaned his name long and low. Her eyes slammed shut and her head was thrown back in pleasure. He finally let himself go. He pumped himself into her once, twice, three more times and then he was coming too, his  orgasm coming from deep inside him to fill her in long bursts of heat that left him feeling completely wrung out. 

He collapsed off to the side pulling her into him, reveling in the feeling of her sweaty, naked body against his. He had never really been one for cuddling after sex, but he found himself wanting to be touching her. He'd felt that way before, he remembered. There was a time, on a ship, not so very long ago when he'd wanted very much to be touching her. 

He hadn't understood the feeling then. He wondered if maybe he hadn't been fooling himself more than just a little. He wondered if maybe he hadn't had feelings for her longer than he'd been willing to admit to himself. Maybe that was why it tore him up so badly when he'd hallucinated killing her. Maybe that was why he'd thought of getting back home to her when he'd been stuck in that hell-hole. 

He held her close and hoped she too felt the connection between them. Hoped that the ever-present guilt he felt around sexual acts didn't bleed into or onto her experiences, too. His talk with Ethan had helped but he still felt the guilt, he wasn't better yet. Not that he expected one session to be the cure. 

"You okay in there?" Sam asked him quietly, smoothing a hand over his chest. 

"Yeah," he said, turning his head to kiss her on the forehead. 

"Guilt?" 

"Not much," he said. 

"But enough?" 

"It'll get better." 

"Yes, it will," she promised. 

And damn it, with her by his side, and with her conviction, he was pretty damn sure it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, the end!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me for over six months! It was a long ride... But we made it! I hope you enjoyed the story. I'm looking forward to the next one. Which probably won't start getting posted until after the Awards are either over or at least well underway. I haven't even started writing it yet... So, see you on the flip side!


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